In The Cold Waters
by Soul Music
Summary: With a new wife and a son at university, Gibbs seems to have life in the balance, but what happens when a past case catches up with him, who will they go after to make Gibbs pay? Who better than his son to use against him? Triquel in Rather Be With You.
1. Chapter 1

**Rather Be With You Three:**

**In The Cold Waters**

**by  
Soul Music**

**Chapter One: Jump In The Cold Water**

Five years. Five years since Gibbs had first laid eyes on that lanky young boy in the darkened street. Five years since his name had been legally changed. Five years of happy bliss. It had been two years since Gibbs had been released from the hold of the hospital, a month later his son following, even happier than he was to escape the white washed square block of boredom. Boredom and his son really didn't mix well, but the staff along his ward had gotten to know him and every time Gibbs had slid by, actually he was there most of the time unless Roy or Peter called in with a case, there was already a nurse or a doctor in his room engaged in conversation. Doctor Runyon had turned into a first name basis acquaintance and would usually drop by after his shift for a quick hello. He'd made good friends with Peter as well, so it all seemed to have worked out.

Except, the house felt strangely empty without his active son tearing the place apart. No, at nineteen, Tony had started his years at Ohio University, leaving the house for months at a time. Almost like it had been all those years ago, but…not quite.

Gibbs slid pushed the door open with a shoulder, carrying the box in from his car. As per usual he was greeted by the excited snuffle of a familiar dog.

"Out the way, Dief." He gave the quick command, emphasising it with a foot, pushing the dog out the way, claws clattering on the wooden floor.

"Jethro, is that you?" A lilting voice urgently called from the direction of the stairs. Gibbs frowned; his wife wasn't usually home this early. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

"Yeah, Stephanie." He called back; depositing the box he'd been carrying on the kitchen table and finally giving a bit of attention to the pining canine. Stephanie had never liked the energetic animal, which caused somewhat of a problem at first since Gibbs wasn't getting rid of the dog; he was Tony's dog first and foremost. After a rather heated "discussion" Stephanie had backed down. But, their marriage wasn't exactly…working very well. To put it lightly.

Gibbs didn't turn as he heard footsteps on the stairs. "What you doin' home so early?" He asked, straightening up from mussing with Dief's furry head. The dog gave himself a shake, tail wagging back and forth in a gormless manner. Gibbs turned. And it wasn't just Stephanie there.

She was there, in a floral dressing gown held tight around her, but there was also someone else. He couldn't have been more than thirty with his hair sticking up in directions unknown to most men. He'd obviously been attempting to sneak out without being noticed, only to fail abysmally. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the youth, the sheepish expression on Stephanie's slightly flustered face. The fact there was pretty obviously nothing underneath that dressing gown.

Gibbs headed down towards the boat, hauling his box of case files with him.

* * *

There are many ways to get from Ohio University to Washington, DC. Many ones. One can walk the distance, it'll take you a while, but you can do it: About six days if you didn't sleep. You can take a bicycle: about two days if you never stopped. You can take a bus, a car: seven hours constantly on the road - or as Tony did that evening, a plane. He hadn't yet driven his Mustang over to Ohio, but had either left it in the parking space of his home or, as that time, in the long-stay car park. The plane landed a few minutes after ten thirty, clearing the runway quickly for the next descending airline. Taxi-ing towards its parking slot, the plane let its cargo of passengers stretch their stiff limbs as they walked down the metal stairs towards their new destination.

Baggage claim can be someone's worst nightmare or their best friend. If you bag is the first to arrive you'll thank the heavens that you have to spend no longer in an airport. If it's last you'll be cursing the floor. This time, the nineteen year old with the bright grin and the travel mussed hair was jumping joy to the clouds. His long stride carried him out towards the shuttle which shepherded weary travellers towards the next stage of their travels: their vehicles. This traveller was far from weary.

His green eyes shone brightly as he jogged towards the loved car, still in as pristine condition now as it had ever been. Humming tunelessly to himself, the young man dumped his bags into the passenger seat and pulled out with the same vigour for driving as his father had always shown. The smart, slick-black car wound through the traffic, the radio blasting out the familiar sounds from the speakers. There was nothing quite like coming back to the home state and turning on the radio to a familiar radio presenter. Well, maybe going actually _home. _

Especially when home wasn't expecting you.

The drive down from the airport wasn't hindered a great deal by transport and the black Stallion slid into its place beside the slick sedan. He couldn't help the goofy grin spreading across his face as his bright eyes looked up at the house with it's welcoming ivy vines twisting up the wall and its bush of…something or other that had never flowered. Cutting the engine, Tony took a moment to step out, pulling his bags slowly behind him.

As usual the door wasn't locked. Even with a father in law enforcement he didn't bother doing anything as simple as flicking on a lock. Odd. Brave? Cocky? Naw, odd.

The door swung back with a silent squeak a moment before a gruff bark and his vision was filled with fur. Tony dropped his bags in the middle of the hallway, patting his chest with a hand. He didn't care how big the dog was, Dief would still leap up and if you were quick enough you could catch him. Tony had had years of practise tightly holding the hyperactive fuzz ball. "I supposed I missed you too, Dief," He rolled his eyes, pushing his bag along with a foot, leaving the other for people to trip over.

"Hello?" Called a voice from the kitchen.

"Hey there, Stephanie." Tony replied, plastering a grin across his face. He'd never said a great deal, but Stephanie and he didn't get on all that well. Hmn. But, she was his step-mother and he could act civil when the time called for it. Actually, it was more Tony didn't get on with her as much as she tried to get on with him, strange occurrences.

"Anthony, what are you doing here?"

"Kinda living. Thought I'd be a surprise."

"You're definitely that." Stephanie exited the kitchen she'd been in, looking the young man up and down.

"So…how you been?" Tony asked, attempting to strike up some sort of conversation.

"Just fine." The words hung in the air

"Right, well…that's nice?" They really didn't get on well. Stephanie sighed, turning her back on the boy, who had just dumped the dog back on the floor. "Jethro's down in the _basement._" The word finishing that sentence was not said with any indication that Stephanie liked that room. The statement didn't surprise Tony in the least, even when he'd been around; the basement was the first port of call when trying to find someone in the house. Even Tony liked to sit down there when he was alone in the house; Gibbs had come back a few times to see Tony lying against the ribs of the boat with a book propped up on his knees.

Pulling the door down to the basement open gently, the nineteen year old ducked his head in, the dim light casting shadows of the skeleton of a boat across the far wall. The usual figure had his back to the staircase, running a hand across the ribs of wood which curved up over his head towards the dark ceiling.

"Woah, looks like you've done _a lot _since I last dropped by." He announced his presence with a comment, proceeding to the fifth step from the bottom, where he usually sat. Gibbs head snapped around at the voice, confusion colouring his pale blue eyes.

"Hi, Dad!" Tony jumped down the last few steps, landing with a soft thump at the bottom.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Gibbs voice held confused amusement as he dropped his hand-sander onto the bench and strode across the floor to pull his tall son into an embrace. Tony's bright goofy smile was still in place by the time he was released, held at arms length to be observed by the father.

"Well, I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd pop by."

"At quarter to midnight?" Gibbs draped an arm around his son's shoulders, seating the two men on the fifth step from the top. Tony had grown in the two years since their last incredibly dramatic episode. His shoulders were broader, his whole body longer. He was rivalling Gibbs in the height department and was definitely looking into his football player status. But, he still had the unruly hair and the sparkling green eyes that Gibbs doubted would ever leave the young man. "So, back for the wedding?"

Tony turned his head towards his father, surprised. "How did you know that, the wedding's not until next week."

"Neither is the start of your break, and yet you're still home. Either you got kicked out, which you wouldn't be smirking about, or you sweet talked your way out with an excuse."

"And you surmised the excuse was the wedding, well I've always been told I have a silver tongue." _More like platinum_.

Gibbs ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. The soft murmur from the television in the basement was the only sound which filled the dim room for a moment as the two Gibbs men sat in silence. Tony's green eyes surveyed the slow progress of the boat, the known curves of the wooden ribs and the creeping shadow on the far wall.

"You gunna paint it when it's done?" Tony asked thoughtfully.

"The boat? Maybe, she's got a long way to go 'till then."

"Yeah, but it never hurts to think ahead, now does it?" His son countered, turning a genuine, wide smile his way.

"You accusing me of something?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Me?" The young man exclaimed in mocked horror. "I would never do anything of the sort!"

Gibbs merely rolled his eyes, ruffling the soft hair on the back of Tony's head.

The television filled the silence once again before the unmistakable sound of the floorboards above joined in. Two pairs of eyes, one green, one blue, were raised to the ceiling.

"How is my step-mother doing, she wasn't all that vocal with me." Tony asked, attempting to keep the sharp edge of sarcasm out of his voice.

"And ya think she's vocal with me? Don't call her that."

"Well…no, I think _you're_ not vocal with her, there's a difference." Tony decided after a moment. "And why not? It wasn't like she was all that happy when I started calling her Steph." He grinned at the memory. There was another stream of comfortable silence, the morning agriculture report bumbling in the background.

"Not goin' great, then?" Tony's tone was soft, not quite soft enough to be sympathetic yet, but still soft. The ability for son and father to read each other was one that confused and surprised many others. Gibbs let out a soft sigh as the creaking floorboards faded away, leading to the idea that Stephanie had headed upstairs, probably to bed.

"That's one way of putting it."

"Yeah? How long've you been sleeping down here?" Tony gestured to the familiar throw blanket that he'd noticed hadn't been on the couch but was now trying to hide under the work bench.

"Week."

"Really?"

"Month."

"That's more like it…Did she-."

"Yeah." Gibbs knew what the end of that sentence was going to be and didn't feel the need to be asked specifically if his wife had cheated on him with the next door neighbour's friend. It was the talk of the street already. With a soft click of his tongue, Tony rested his head partly on Gibbs' shoulder, trying to cover up a yawn. Gibbs smiled gently.

"C'mon, up to bed."

"Naw, 'm good." Tony complained, raising his head, but his slightly bleary green eyes gave him away. "I slept on the plane, sorta."

"Yeah, like hell you did." Gibbs shook his head, a fond look in his eyes. He'd never known Tony to fall asleep, or even doze in or anywhere around any sort of plane. Just wasn't going to happen, and he'd never needed to ask why.

"Fine, but it's not like I've had a stressful day. Maybe I should take Dief for a walk, tire myself out properly."

"At this hour? Not likely, young man."

"I'm nineteen Dad, not nine!"

"Not to me, kid."

Tony huffed, but conceded, standing up on the step and stretching, making his way up the wooden steps, reassured by his father's following footsteps.

* * *

The follow morning was an early one as per usual. Tony had stayed in the habit of getting up early enough for a morning run ever since he'd joined the high school football team. This morning was no different. Well, except Stephanie appeared to be up before him, wearing a thin silk dressing gown and probably very little else.

He'd pulled on his running slacks before heading downstairs with his shirt hanging over his shoulder rather than actually being pulled over his head. Humming tunelessly as before he paused to fuss over his dog, as he always did.

"Good morning, Anthony." Stephanie's voice appeared in the doorway followed by the woman herself.

"Morning. You know, you can call me Tony…seriously." Tony replied, straightening up.

"I suppose I can; but I prefer Anthony."

"Oh…kay." Tony drew out the word, he really wasn't in the mood for an altercation that morning, so instead he made for the door into the kitchen towards the gently steaming coffee machine his back turned towards his step-mother. It was probably quite a good thing that his back _was _turned, or he'd have caught the appraising look Stephanie cast over the well toned nineteen year old. It was a little…creepy.

Grabbing a mug from the draining board beside the sink, Tony poured himself a cup full, ignoring the sugar and cream and downed the entire mug in two huge gulps. Jeez! Stephanie made weak coffee, hardly coffee at all.

"I'm just, ah…gunna head out for a run." Tony decided it was only polite to inform the woman as he pulled the shirt over his head and slid his feet into the shoes he'd left under the coat rack by the door.

"I'll still be here when you get back."

_Yeah…I'm sure you will, _Tony thought despondently to himself as he gave a bright fake smile.

"Hell, Dief." The command was short and to the point, but still had the mutt bounding up, almost head-butting the door. Not the sharpest tool in the box. Not bothering to take his keys, or a lead for that matter, Tony headed out into the cold winter weather, breaking into a light jog with Diefenbaker loping easily beside him. It was a well known route he'd taken many times before towards the area of greenery some called a park, but what was really just a patch of random wildlife in the centre of the city. But, it was a favourite running spot, much better than some of the road spaghettied ones crossing Ohio.

_The window of a blacked out car was wound down with a soft squeak, a long lensed, high definition camera snaked out, directed across the street. The shutters clicked softly, capturing minute moments in time with deadly accuracy. The camera followed the young man and his faithful dog until they rounded a corner, disappearing from sight with a long strided jog. The camera was brought back inside the car and the window wound up with the same soft whining noise. A phone buzzed on the passenger seat, announcing the arrival of a new message. It read plainly: _Got them? _The driver replied with a single word _'Yes' _before pulling out into the quiet suburban street and vanishing into the morning._

* * *

**Hey look! It's a triquel, or a sequel to a sequel, or a triad. I don't know, it's the third story here. Who knows what's gunna happen. Few thank-yous, even if it is the first chapter. First, Annika, followed from day one, love it. WCUGirl, love the chats, it's like a new stage of motivation. BnBfanatic, you know why, eternally grateful for that. And that's my thank-you speech. I'll keep updating quickly, don't hesitate to give your opinion, any feedback is more than welcome. And we'll see how it goes. And yes, the title's from a Joshua Radin lyric, not mine.**

**Soul Music**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Watch The Rain Play**

The morning of the wedding was bright and cheerful. The cold hadn't let up yet and frost still covered the cars from the previous night's snow, but the weather was calm, if chilly. The wind wasn't thrashing through the trees as it had been last night; all in all, it was looking like a pretty brilliant day.

Tony was the last out of the shower, and therefore you'd think he'd be the last dressed and ready. But, you'd be wrong. There was at least a ten minute difference between Tony coming down with the top three buttons of his shirt undone and his jacket over one arm and Stephanie coming down kitted out to go. Those ten minutes did give enough time to fuss over the tie.

"Da-ad! You're not wearing a tie!"

"I earned the right not to wear a tie, you still have to."

"Urgh, but…but then I have to do my shirt up."

"Life is a series of long and unknown hardships."

The young man rolled his eyes, fastening up the buttons of his smart shirt, but that stubborn streak played through as if still refused to do up the top button. Gibbs gave an 'it'll do' eye roll before picking up the discarded tie on the table. Tony didn't resist as Gibbs wrapped the cloth around his son's neck and proceeded to tie the intricate knot that actually made a simple strip of fabric into a neat tie.

"Wasn't as bad as you thought, then?" Gibbs questioned, stepping back. Tony rolled his eyes but nodded just as Stephanie entered with her hair pulled back in a plait.

"C'mon then we should get in the car, late for a wedding's never a good thing." Stephanie's voice cut across to the two men.

"Yeah, I'm gunna take mine, told Jake I'd meet him after the reception." Tony revealed, pulling his arms into his jacket coat.

"Only if you can keep up with us, I'm not giving any directions if you get lost." A slight smirk quirked at the side of Gibbs' mouth.

"Oh, come _on_, Dad! Like I couldn't keep up with you, I should be the one leading!"

"And you know the way?"

"Well…no, but-."

"Means you're useless, come on, we're going to be late!" Stephanie cut into the father and son's light banter, opening the door whilst pulling on her winter coat. Tony grabbed his own coat, the car keys jingling in the pocket and, ignoring the whines from Diefenbaker, closed the door after himself and his father, heading out towards his own car. On the kitchen table lay two identical envelopes with the embossed gold writing with the words:

_You have been invited to the wedding of_

_Peter James Dalrym  
and  
Natasha Jessica Palmer_

* * *

Tony pulled his Mustang into the parking lot just beside his father's car, turning off the gentle bumble of the engine before stepping out into the brisk winter weather.

"Tony!" A cheerful voice called followed by the crunch of gravel under foot as a figure in a smart grey suit strode over, a wide grin on his face.

"Hey, Roy. How's it going?" Tony replied an equally bright grin on his features as he clasped the older man's hand tightly.

"It's going pretty damn well. Man…I remember you as a lanky fourteen year old playing on my chair. You sure have grown."

"I'd be a bit worried if he hadn't." Gibbs appeared like he always did into the conversation, shaking Roy's hand.

"Ah, but you'd worry about him anyway, wouldn't you, Jethro." Annie, Roy's smiling wife, joined into the conversation, their new baby girl held by her shoulder. The quip was taken at face value for Gibbs who merely smiled, giving the young woman a quick kiss on the cheek, copying the same thing Tony had done a moment earlier.

"Hey Annie. And how are the kids doing?" Tony asked as Roy wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Oh, a handful as usual! Sammy and Ian are off causing some unknown havoc, and Beth here's an angel as always." The baby held protectively in her mothers arms gave one of those special vague baby expressions which only infants could give to the world at large.

"Heard you got yourself a new team, Roy, haven't given you a congratulations yet. How they doing?" Tony interjected, Roy beamed.

"I'm kicking them into shape. They're so green some days it feels hopeless, but they're a good bunch." The blonde haired agent who'd worked with Gibbs for enough years to get himself a nice promotion whilst still in Washington replied with a grin.

Annie was about to add something more when a voice called for the guests to take their seats. So, as Annie headed off to herd in her two boys, Roy went off to take his position as Best Man next to Peter and the Gibbses strolled towards the church entrance where the traditional question of 'Are you with the Bride or the Groom' allowed them to be shows to the correct side of the church. The sides were equally filled with smiling relatives and friends, even the traditional weeping old female relative in the front row who made the comment of 'they look so young' as the service began.

Tony had been to weddings before, but…never one he actually wanted to go to. Never one where there were so many grinning faces that weren't just painted masks but actually showed genuine happiness. It widened the smile on his own face.

The service wasn't long, but it covered the basics and the vows were…in some parts mildly cringy, but heart felt. Natasha didn't look half bad in her long white and silver edged dress, and whilst Peter looked thoroughly nervous he held it together with Roy by his side.

The guests spilled out onto the racked gravel pathway outside the church with the same happy burbling of chatter that all these sorts of family events held. Tony immediately excused himself from Gibbs and Stephanie as he made his way over the nine year old Cadman boys who were attempting to trip up guests on their way down the stone steps. Yet, the husband and wife weren't alone for long as conversations were drawn up around them with the usual randomness of weddings.

Stephanie, however, wasn't looking all too pleased. She'd detached herself from Gibbs and found her way, weaving in and out, towards a familiar face. Josephine and Mark Runyon had also received their gold embossed invite, although Mark had already peeled away to give his congratulations to the happy couple.

"Oh, Stephanie, I didn't see you there." Josephine greeted, giving her friend a quick hug. "It was a lovely service."

"Wasn't it just."

"And I see Tony's back, I'm sure that's putting Jethro in a particularly good mood." The nurse craned her head over the crowd where she could make out Gibbs talking politely with Annie Cadman whilst still keeping a fond eye on his son messing around with hers. Stephanie sighed deeply.

"Am I wrong?" Josephine asked, frowning at her friend's appearance.

"No, no, he is in a better mood, but whenever Anthony comes I…fade into the background."

"Oh, sweetie, it's only to be expected. He hardly sees the boy when he's away and he's always seemed to have some slightly odd priorities."

"Yes, at least Anthony is a _nice _young man. I just want to be a good step-mother to him, a good mother to him." Josephine smiled, not noticing the far away and insanely fake look in her friend's eyes.

"And I'm sure you are, Steph. Just let them get used to it; they were always very, very close. It's sweet when you think about it."

"Hmn." Stephanie shrugged, eyes lingering on her step-son as he picked up Sam Cadman, proceeding to stick him on the lowest roof of the church, his shirt riding up at the perfect moment.

"Oh, seriously!" An annoyed voice chorused through the ranks of guests. Heads turned towards the parking lot where a thoroughly frustrated Roy was standing, glaring down at his car.

"What's goin' on, Roy?" Peter's voice called, winding to the front of the crowd with one hand wrapped around Natasha's.

"Perfect. Flat tire!" Roy rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"That's alright; you can ride with us to the reception." Natasha offered, linking her arm in with her husbands.

"Got Annie and the kids as well, anyone got any space in their car?" Roy asked in a loud voice over the general chatter which had started up again.

Tony looked up from his mussing with the boys, green eyes alert. He had what…four extra seats, that would do, wouldn't it?

"Yeah, I got space. Who'm I takin'?" He pulled Sam off the low roof and dusted off his hands, making his way forward. He caught Gibbs' eyes and gave a wide grin.

"Urgh, you're a life saver, Tony."

"Yeah, I know, fantastic looking as well. Always better to have someone handsome save the day." Cocky wasn't _really _the right word.

"So, can you just drive Annie and the kids, you know the way right?"

"Yeah, course I do…it's urhm…that way?" Tony pointed vaguely with a sheepish grin. Peter shook his head, reciting the directions he'd done many times before.

"We should get goin' then, don't want to be late." Tony pulled the keys out of his pocket. A gentle hand on his arm caused him to turn towards his father.

"Drive carefully and I'll meet you there." There was a serious tinge to Gibbs' light words.

"I always drive carefully, but just for you I'll drive like the queen is in the back."

"The queen is in the back." Roy cut in, giving Annie a quick kiss and doing the same to little Beth.

"Your chariot awaits your majesty." Tony gave a mock bow, bringing a soft stream of laughter from the crowd. Even Gibbs gave a slight smile, watching his son take Annie's free hand and lead her over towards the handsome Mustang.

"Quite a son you've got there." Mark Runyon commented softly behind Gibbs' back.

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

"So much for a knight in shining armour." Tony grinned, indicating the muddy smudge either Sam or Ian had left on his jacket with a foot.

"I think your car makes up for the shine." Annie replied with a smile, keeping an arm around Beth as the car pulled out of the church yard onto the slippery, ice slicked road. Even if Tony had promised to drive carefully, he was driving incredibly slowly as well because of the treacherous conditions.

"You guys alright in the back?" Annie addressed the two boys squirming cheerfully in the Mustang's back seat, reaching the restrictions of their seatbelts as they peered out the windows. The mother got no reply except two energetically nodding heads. Tony was keeping a very close eye on the road ahead, scouting out any icy patches that he didn't want to meet for the first time under his wheels.

"Wait…so you go up this road then take a left then a right…or was it a right then a left?" Tony mused out load, shooting a awkward grin towards the woman in the passenger seat.

"Left then a right." Annie laughed.

"Right! Left then right." He turned the Mustang's steering wheel carefully so the whole car took the corner without too much trouble. The trees were picking up the light snow which had begun to fall, shedding their load of ice and frost onto the road in soft flurries. The sign post towards the hall where the reception was being held was already frosted with the newly sprung flow of snow, the ice clinging to the sign, obscuring the name.

It was a pleasant driveway. A blind turn up ahead wound off towards the car park, but the path was edged with the bare cherry trees that ran along the side of a large frozen lake, the dim winter sun casting beams of light which arced across the surface with startling grace.

"Look! Mom, it's a Bambi-deer!" Sam shouted from the back seat, scrambling to get a better look out of the window.

"Where?" His twin brother shouter, trying to strain across the length of the back seat.

Tony couldn't help as he cast his own eyes the way that Sam had indicated, but still kept an eye on that blind turn up ahead, and it was a damn good thing he did.

The van careered around the corner at a speed Tony wasn't entirely sure he could comprehend. The wheels screeched in protest as they hit a patch of black ice, spinning uselessly as the vehicle skidded around the bend. Tony jammed his foot into the break, attempting to keep his Mustang under control as the ice grew thicker across the path. He could hear a dim yelp from the back seat and his name being called from the passenger seat, but he kept his mind concentrating on keeping the Mustang under control. The white van's back corner smashed along the side of the classic car, pushing it across onto the darker frosted bank. The steering wheel spun wildly, burning friction over Tony's palms.

In an agonising minute of spinning car, the Mustang slid across the bank, leaving four mud tracks from the wheels and crunched onto the ice covered lake, spiralling around its tail.

The car finally came to a juddering halt out completely exposed on the creaking ice. The van sped away, now under control. Tony's hands hovered over the wheel, deep breathing filling the car as the ice creaked ominously below.

"Okay…" Tony started, his breath clouding up in front of him. He brought a hand up to turn the key, the heat from the exhaust melting the ice didn't seem like a great idea. "Everyone alright?" He tried, glancing into the rear view mirror where two pale, terrified faces met his own.

"Sammy, Ian, okay?" He got two furious nods. "Good, you guys just keep real still, good." He turned his head very slowly towards the passenger seat, not wanting to switch his movement. "Annie?"

"Yeah, Tony, I'm fine, so's Beth." He could tell that by the quiet crying of the young baby.

"Right…uh, good." Tony swallowed, green eyes darting around. He heard Sam cry out as the whole car shifted on the ice beneath.

"Hey, guys, it's okay. Its gunna be fine. Can you say that for me? Everything's gunna be fine. Say it for me." Tony tried to keep his voice light, but the fact that he could feel the crumpled door pressing down on his leg was using all his control not to panic.

"Everything's gunna be fine." Two voices mumbled from the back seat.

"Can't really hear you, must be goin' a bit deaf."

"Everything's gunna be fine!" This time Annie joined in, coaxing her children with a loader voice.

"I couldn't say it better myself. Hey, Sam, do you think you can get that window down, just wind it down?" Sam nodded mutely, attempting to wind around the handle as the window squeaked down. He yelped as the car shifted. "It's okay, honey, just keep going." Annie encouraged her son gently, trying to rock the crying Beth without shifting her weight. The window wound it's way down as fast as the shaking boy's hands could manage.

The ice groaned, the car jerking off to one side as a wheel dipped into the freezing water below the covering of ice. This was getting worse much faster than it was getting better. One step forward, two steps back.

"That's great Sammy." Tony praised, ignoring the pressure being delivered onto his leg by the crumpled door. "Okay, Sam. I want you to climb real slow outta the car. When you're on the ice get down on your hands and knees and crawl to the edge. You can do that, can't you buddy. I know you can. You still good there Ian?" He got a nod from Sam and a quiet 'yeah' from Ian. He caught Annie's terrified glance and gave her a quick wink, ignoring his own insecurities. It wasn't that his leg hurt, he just couldn't move it from its current position. A little worrying to say the least.

Tony watched in the rear view mirror as the nine year old boy who had hair as blonde as his father scrambled through the open window. "Doin' great, Sammy!" He called as the boy dropped to his hands and knees to distribute his weight. He could hear the quiet sobs from the back seat, but left Annie to console the younger of the two twins as he kept an eagle eye on Sam slipping on the ice and scrambling up the bank.

"Brilliant Sam! Now, run up to the main road, try and find someone!" Tony shouted, accidentally moving his shoulders so the weight change caused the crack beneath the wheel to groan wildly, the front end of the Mustang dipping dangerously. Tony caught his breath as the pressure on his leg increased, but bit down on his tongue before he yelped.

"Your turn Ian." Annie's voice quaked after a few moments of silence. The darker of the two twins was just about to move when two voices shouted loudly from the bank, yelling the names of the driver and wife in the passenger seat.

"'M alright, Dad!" Tony yelled back, "Just getting Ian out,"

"Is Sammy with you?" Annie chipped in, unable to turn in her seat for fear of having an inpromptu date with the soaking freeze.

"Yeah, he's fine, how's Bethy?" Roy's voice cut across the ice, even as Tony encouraged the young boy to climb through the window as the Mustang's front dipped once more, the front bumper pushing against the white, sparkling ice cover.

_Sam had run as fast as his little legs would carry him. His once smart suit that he'd only ever worn this once was now smeared with mud from the climb up the bank and splodged with damp patches from the ice. Tears tracked his cheeks like rivers, tearing back as he ran, his shoes slipping on the icy coverings of the pathway._

_He caught himself on the frosted sign before he fell, his head whipping back and forth, undecided on which way to go. Luckily, he didn't have to choose as a small convoy of cars rounded a corner. The front one stopped at his appearance, the driver's side door opening. The groom of the day stepped out, dark eyes clouding with confusion. Peter spoke up first._

"_Sam? What's wrong?" Roy had jumped out of the back seat and was already kneeling down in front of his crying son, resting two hands on his shoulders. "Hey, hey, Sammy. It's okay, what happened?" The cars behind had made quick stops on the side of the road, the guests slowly moving out to see what the hold up was. _

_Gibbs had jogged forward, his blue eyes flashing about in building worry that his schooled expression would hardly let show. _

"_It came outta nowhere, didn't see it comin'." Sam sobbed into Roy's shoulder. _

"_What, Sammy?"_

"_The van! It hit the-the car and…the ice! T-T-Tony got me out and told me to r-run. I did, I don't know what to do!" The small boy dissolved into tears once more as realisation dawned upon both Roy and Gibbs. Reading his friend's eyes, Mark Runyon, who'd just exited his car, came up behind Sam as Roy straightened up. _

"_Go." He muttered as he put a hand on Sam's shoulder, letting his father take off at a sprint after his former boss. _

_The car wasn't hard to find. A large dark object amidst a pure white background. _

"_Tony!"_

"_Annie!" Was called at the same time as both agents skidded to a halt on the edge of the ice, watching as the classic Mustang tipped forward, the back wheels coming off the ice sheet. _

"'_M alright, Dad! Just getting Ian out!" The voice was music for Gibbs, which died quickly at the circumstances. The same effect was given to Roy as his wife called out from the car._

"_Is Sammy with you?" Roy sighed in relief._

"_Yeah, he's fine, how's Bethy?"_

The sign of Ian scrambling across the ice had Roy stepping out onto the freezing plate to pick up the shaking child and bundling him back onto the bank. Just as he was stepping up onto the frozen grass an almighty crunch echoed around the silent cherry trees. A slight scream shook the car as the whole front end tipped downwards, a splash rising up over the bonnet.

Inside the vehicle the three remaining passengers were thrown to one side, Annie bumping heavily into Tony as the car listed to one side through the ice. Tony let out an involuntary gasp as a stream of ice cold, deadly liquid covered his foot beside the pedals. He swallowed thickly, hand shaking as they still held the wheel, pressing his back into the seat as the baby cried harder beside him.

* * *

**Ooh, look at that! It's chapter two, delightful! Who is the evil van driver? What is with this cracking ice? Oh no, dramatic! At least I think so, now time for my customary thank-you speech. Gloworm41 and Karen19, your reviews make me smile for hours. Annika, amazing as always, Jen of course! Ah, well, there we go, let's see how far we go. **

**Soul Music**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Just In Case There's Just One Left**

**Eryn **_**& **_**Annika**

_The white van had been discarded a few dozen miles up the road. The back was empty, the sides plain and the plates missing. Nothing to show it was ever really someone's van at all, it was just…an unmarked white van. There were thousands, millions of them, and that was why they were perfect for just being discarded. And it had been, left on the side of the road with nothing to be traced from it. _

* * *

The water was slowly pooling into the foot space of the Mustang's driver's side. Tony could feel the freezing liquid lapping at his feet, the cold seeping through the lace-holes in his shoes. He was still trying to push his weight back, trying –almost on will power alone- to get the back righted back up horizontally, rather than it's worrying angle that was gently steepening as time passed.

Beth was still crying, even as Annie muttered soft words to the infant. Her shaking voice wasn't helping all too much.

"Annie, you're gunna need to open the door." Tony kept the quaver out of his own voice. The door was pressing down on his leg with a force that was close to pain. His lower leg was already tingling with pins and needles as the blood vessels were constricted, the flow having trouble passing down to the lower appendage.

"I can't Tony! It'll take all the weight off."

"Yeah, I know, but stayin' in here any longer and we'll be penguins." He joked gently; giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Annie, there's Beth as well, you guys need to get back to the shore before the ice gets any more cracked and stuff. I'll be fine, I'm just keepin' the weight here 'til your out and then I'm outta here too. Okay?" He nodded encouragingly, his grin more or less faked, but still bright and sunny. Sunnier than the day outside anyway. He didn't want to try moving his leg whilst Annie and the baby were still in the car for fear of upsetting the very, very fragile balance they seemed to have created. Man, he hated Physics, always had.

"Okay." Annie conceded quietly, reaching out a tentative hand and pulling on the door release. Moving as slowly as her nerves would allow, Annie let the door open, keeping a hand to stop it swinging out. Just as she was leaning forward, the car shuddered with a metallic judder. The door slipped from her hand, swinging back with a wide whine. The Mustang listed once again to the side, the ice crumbling like a badly cooked biscuit as the water rushed under the door on Tony's side.

Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he clamped it over Annie's shoulder, stopping her falling directly into his lap. From the way the car was leaning his arm was the only thing stopping her doing just that.

"Scramble!" He cried desperately, giving the mother a push on the shoulder.

"Tony!" Gibbs' voice bellowed across the ice as the whole of the assembled wedding watched the car with different degrees of horror. Roy had his two boys in his arms, crouching down on the bank with each arm around a different boy. Peter had skidded down the bank to join them, Mark on his heels, gazing out across the white expanse. When Gibbs received no response except the echoing creaking of the ice, he made the quick move out onto the ice, only to be stopped by someone, well actually two someone's grabbing his jacket.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mark's voice asked, pulling the agent back.

"Let go." Gibbs voice was a low growl.

"You'll be doing them no good if you fall through that ice, and you're far more likely to do just that than they are. They have the protection of the car." The doctor's voice was matter of fact, calculated, but Gibbs was still struggling against his and Peter's hold on his shoulders.

"C'mon boss, Mark's right we-" Peter was cut off as the movement of the car changed. The car, leaning almost completely on its driver's side now, but a small figure was just emerging from the passenger side. The unmistakable crying of a child rent through the air, Roy's head shot up, his eyes staring across the ice.

The ice slid and skittered under Annie's heels as she attempted to keep a hold of Beth whilst keeping her footing on the ice. Roy was about to get to his feet, but Mark stayed his position, realising holding Gibbs back wasn't a safe thing for him to do and it wasn't like it would work anyway.

Gibbs jumped back onto the ice, sliding on his first few steps before he got the hang of ice running. Peter had skidded onto the plate after him, slipping up to Annie to offer his help to the strong, but shaken mother. Peter led the mother and daughter back towards the shore, but Gibbs carried on towards the car, the ice creaking more and more under each foot as he approached the car.

"Tony?" his voice called softly over the ominous groaning of the frozen water.

"Dad? What are you doing, get back to the shore!" Tony's voice was breathy but distinct with confusion.

"Not likely. How you doing?" It was a first sentence which bridged no argument, nothing anyone, even Tony, said would convince him to move. Tony sighed.

"It's a tad chilly." He joked lightly. If Gibbs could've reached, he would've delivered a head slap.

"Tony." He growled, although it lacked much of his usual power.

"Really, Dad. I'm fine, just a bit…preoccupied." Finally reaching the abused Mustang, Gibbs was given his first look at his son's slightly pale face. Whether he was pale from some unknown injury, cold or shock he couldn't quite see yet.

"Can you get to the passenger door?" Gibbs questioned, keeping a blue eye on the slowly dipping corner of the car. The water was lapping up against the driver's side door, and with each creak of the ice he could feel the ice shifting below his feet, even if he was attempting to distribute his weight as much as possible.

"Uhm, yeah, about that." Tony started, licking his lips. "Dad, my…er. My leg's stuck." He trailed off slightly, his green eyes searching out guiltily for his father who he could just see through the windscreen.

"Stuck? Elaborate." It was more or less an order. No, it was an order. Tony sighed, his breath coming up in a swirling cloud.

"Nothing drastic, just the…uhm, the door's kinda got my leg between the seat and the door jam." He tried to keep his voice light, but even he could tell it was a few notes higher than usual.

"And that's nothing. Damn it, Tony. Can you move it at all?" Tony considered this, flexing the muscles in his thigh, but all he got from that was changing the pressure points.

"Uhm, no…not really." He muttered, embarrassment colouring his cheeks.

"Okay, just keep still for a moment." Gibbs skirted around the edge of the car, checking his footing on each step.

"I've been going that for so long I think I'm going to be permanently stuck in this position." Not to mention when his shoes froze into nice little ice cubes. Gibbs didn't answer as he came up by the half submerged driver's door.

"Uh, uh, Dad. No. Touch that door and you'll be fish food too…albeit frozen fish food, but that just saves the supermarkets some time. Don't you dare."

"I tell you not to dare." Gibbs pointed out, grasping the freezing metal of the car's door handle. Tony braced himself as Gibbs pulled up the handle, giving the door a slow tug. A quick one would certainly bring the car careering through the ice towards the murky grey depths of the frozen water. But, it wasn't like the slow pull was doing anything of the short. There was a small growl from Tony that sounded more like a purr.

"Tony?" Gibbs questioned quickly, halting his progress, eyes flicking up with concern.

"Just loosened it up a bit, got all the blood rushing to my feet." He muttered as his leg tingled unpleasantly. "It not opening?" The teenager, but only just, questioned.

"Nope. It-" Gibbs was cut off as the ice shifted downwards. He took a hasty step back as the plate he'd been standing on crumbled underneath the car. The side of the car slipped down, the ice spiking up in deadly sharps, splintering like plywood. Gibbs had to bring up an arm to shield his eyes against the shower of ice shards sent up by the descending Mustang.

"Anytime now would be good, Dad." Tony's voice called as he gave a yank on his leg, trying to move it out of its uncomfortable position between the seat and the door. Gibbs scrambled up from his position, slipping only once on the slick surface as he grabbed the passenger side of the car, reaching in an arm as far as he could go. His fingers just brushed against his son's shoulder as he continued to remove his leg.

"Grab hold!" He commanded, trying to snatch his fingers into the fabric of the smart suit jacket.

"Give me a second, can't quite."

"Anthony!" The full name got a shocked attention, but it also got a hand reaching out and wrapping around Gibbs arm. The car jerked wildly, almost breaking the grip, but the experienced agent had already clamped a hand on his son's shoulder, hauling his upper body towards him.

With a screaming crunch the ice fractured, shattering in all directions of the compass. Using his body weight to push one foot against the car, Gibbs gave another heave, managing to wrap an arm around Tony's back and pull him under his arm.

"Dad!" The young man cried as his foot caught on the door frame, but the footing on the ice was quickly becoming no more than floating shards. Swallowing his worry, Gibbs took a step back, one foot slipping out from underneath him just as the car flipped over completely and sent up a wave of icy water. The car sank like a stone, but that wasn't what Gibbs was concentrating on. His arms were still wrapped around his son's chest as he hauled him up from the water, pushing off with a foot to break away from the splintered hole in the centre of the ice.

Tony's breathing was quick and shallow as he found himself sprawled on the ice, the freezing water soaking into his legs and the freezing ice soaking into his side. But, the warm presence of his father's chest kept him centred, and the warm arm around his back helped him sit up. A thick winter coat was draped around his shoulder and strong hands pulled him up, keeping a hand around his waist as he was lead towards the bank line.

Blinking heavily, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, Tony felt light-headed, his vision blurring for a moment. His body had felt so numb, but now the sharp pain was shooting through his ankle.

Gibbs had just reached the bank he felt the body beside him become suddenly boneless. Catching his boy quickly, he laid the cold body down on the mud slicked grass bank, keeping the coat he'd just wrapped around him close to the teen. Kneeling down quickly, he tapped Tony's cheek gently, attempting to rouse him from his brief black out, although his eyelids hadn't stopped flickering.

"Tony? C'mon, kid, no time for this." Gibbs soft mantra went unanswered

There was a flurry of activity around them, but Doctor Runyon had pressed through the scores of people, crouching down beside Tony.

"Tony? Can you hear me?" The traditional question all doctors seemed to ask on sight.

"Heart rate's high, breathing rate too." Runyon muttered to himself, but Gibbs hadn't let his hand slip from cupping Tony's cheek, to which he was rewarded with a pair of green eyes blinking up at him wearily.

"Dad?" His voice was quiet, slow. "What's going on?"

"Just a little adrenaline shock, young man." Runyon patted Tony on the shoulder, looking over at Gibbs, who glanced over at him for a second before returning to his son.

"Anythin' hurting, Tony?" He asked softly, tucking the long coat more tightly around his son's tall frame.

"'M fine." The teen attempted to sit up, but a hand on each shoulder kept him down, one from Gibbs one from Mark.

"Don't even think about it." Was Gibbs remark, which Mark's was more along the lines of.

"Just lie still for a moment, get back your strength."

But, it was the 'fine' comment which had given him away, since he was still stuck with his father's blue gaze demanding an answer.

"Just…well, my ankle, but it's nothing." He tried to assure his dad with pleading green eyes, but it didn't stop Mark pulling up his pant leg and probing against the joint. Tony couldn't help the slight hiss that escaped him as Mark managed to find a point of damage.

"Nothing, did you say?" Gibbs voice was quiet as he raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah…well…" Tony couldn't quite think of an answer to that, but another thought fought it's way to his foggy foreground of his mind. He was half sitting up before the head rush hit and Gibbs gentle hand was wound around his back. "Annie…where are the others, are they okay? Did they get back?" His voice was urgent as he searched his father's eyes.

"We're all fine, Tony." Annie's soft voice called from just off the crowd. "Thank-you, Tony, so much." Gibbs felt Tony's body relax, the new surge of adrenaline working its way out of his system as fast as it had come. Instead of lying the tired teenager back down, Gibbs leant his boy back against his chest, providing just that little bit more warmth. The sound of an approaching ambulance echoed through the soft murmuring of voices.

Tony turned his head sharply upwards. "Dad, I don't need a paramedic." His bright eyes pleaded.

"Well, it seems like a pretty nasty sprain you have here." Mark sat back on his haunches, his voice sympathetic. "I'm sure the EMTs will wrap it up for you and ship you back up to hospital."

Tony was still staring up at Gibbs, his green eyes wide. "Dad, I'm fine, I don't need to go!" His voice was strained.

"They'll just need to warm you up, Tony, wrap up your ankle and then you can come home."

"But-but, they can do that hear, I'm not that cold, I'll warm up in the car. Please."

The last word caught in Gibbs throat, he raised a hand a brushed a few strands of hair off his son's forehead.

"It'll only be for a hour or so. I'll be there the whole time." Gibbs volume and tone were soft, hardly audible for anyone but Tony. Green eyes flicked from the approaching brightly coloured paramedics back to his father. He gave a minute nod.

"Good boy." Gibbs praised softly, giving Tony an encouraging smile as the paramedics flocked in. The agent brought a hand up to rest on the back of Tony's head as he felt the boy stiffen in his arms as his swollen ankle was manipulated by the soft talking, smiling paramedics.

"Are you, Dad?" Asked one of the paramedics, Gibbs just gave him a nod. "Riding with us?" Another nod. The loaded Tony onto a stretcher, much to his dismay and protest, but a few quiet words from Gibbs and he quietened down somewhat, feeling the reassuring presence of his father's hand on his shoulder as he was wheeled towards the bright ambulance, all bundled up in the tin-foil warming blankets that he was still saying he didn't need.

The ambulance doors closed with a last shot of Gibbs taking a seat and resting a hand on his son's head. Mark shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, watching the ambulance move off.

"Some family." He muttered, getting a nod of agreement from Roy and Peter.

"Some boy." Annie added quietly, just to herself and Roy as Peter started to direct his guests back up to the reception hall. Quite enough excitement for one wedding.

Stephanie watched as the ambulance vanished around the corner. She felt Josephine behind her but didn't turn.

"He'll be alright, Steph." Her friend said positively. Stephanie just sighed, the memory of her stepson without his shirt on the week before clearly imprinted on her mind.

"Why don't I drive you to the hospital?" Josephine offered at the silence.

"No, no. Josie. That's alright. I can drive myself, I just want to know he's better." _Because it's doubtful he'll stay that way for long._ The thought brought a smile to her eyes before bidding her friend a goodbye and heading back towards the convoy of cars to which her husband's car was one of. She needed to find the man in that white van.

* * *

**Shock horror, another chapter! Cliff hangers eh? Oh yes, I am famous for mine, lots and lots of them. Thank you so much for the reviews, they make my day. As usual, thank-you time. Jen, we'll keep going with this challenge, you might win next time! Anni, you're names on the top now, it's all well and good. If ya have anything you'd like to say, don't hesitate, makes things better! And I'll calm down and start chapter four now.**

**Soul Music.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Say it if it's Worth Saving Me**

**Eryn **_**& **_**Anni**

_Stephanie slipped her hand into her purse, pulling out the folded strip of paper she'd been given the location of the meet on. Putting the car into gear she started driving across the frosted road. The meeting place she'd been given specific directions to was in a darkened, shadowed, tree covered forest with the bare trees rising up like claws to the grey sky. _

_Luckily it was only a few miles from the outlying hospital which the ambulance had moved off to a few minutes before, the bright lights flashing. But, still, she had to be quick, suspicion moved like wildfire and she had no doubt someone would call up Jethro for an update. If she wasn't there questions could be asked, questions she couldn't answer._

_Placing the dark car into park she stepped out, her heels sinking a few centimetres into the soft ground. In front of her was a dark, rundown shack of a building. The sloping corrugated iron roof was rusted and frayed in places, the door looked worn and crumbling, but it still opened without a whisper as she approached. The man exciting gave her a wide grin, ushering her inside quickly, casting a furtive glance around the surrounding forest – just in case. _

_Once inside with the door closed tightly and the lock turned, Stephanie reached her arms around the man, kissing him tenderly on the lips. _

"_How did it go?" The gruff voice asked, brushing a hand over Stephanie's auburn hair. Stephanie laughed softly._

"_Managed to tear a ligament in his ankle, should put him in the hospital for a few hours." The man grimaced. "What is it, Ewan?" _

"_I thought the hit would put him in the lake. Crap!" He slammed his hand into the only table occupying the small space. "Johnny!" His voice boomed around the enclosed area, but the only other door opened to reveal another man, similar to Ewan in stature but with a shock of black hair scraped back from his face, a thin scar across his forehead. _

"_Yeah?" The newcomer, with all possibility named Johnny, questioned._

"_How come I'm hearing that Anthony DiNozzo is in hospital with no more than a bang on his ankle?" Johnny was just about to reply from Ewan's outrage when Stephanie cut in._

"_It is Jethro's son we're talking about. It won't be that easy to get rid of him, Ewan." She sighed deeply, drawing her lover's attention back onto herself. Ewan cast his dark eyes down towards the floor for a moment, thinking. After a moment he met Stephanie's grey, gleaming eyes._

"_So, what do we do now?" He questioned, frustration creeping into his voice. Stephanie was also silent for a few moments._

"_I can get close to him, I can find a way." Her smile was cat-like. Ewan's gaze turned to a glare._

"_Remember, Stephy, this is my game. You're just help."_

"_I know, sweetie. I know, but I have the ability to reach inside the defences." Ewan didn't look half convinced._

"_Fine, we'll get down to Gibbs place tonight." He gave a nod towards his muscled crony, who just stared back at him. "We'll get this-."_

"_No! No, no, no. If Jethro sees you'll he'll definitely suspect something, he might even recognise you. It would ruin everything, Ewan. You'll never get another chance, sweetie." Ewan's eyes burnt with annoyance and need, but finally consented. _

"_Fine, but take this, you know what to do with it." He waved a hand at Johnny who moved up beside his boss and brought a tin about the size of his hand out of a pocket. Ewan took it and held it up. "Use it sparingly; I don't wanna hear I need more." Stephanie's smile was far from pleasant. Taking the small, sealed tin, she stowed it away in her purse._

_Leaning forward, Tony's step mother placed a lingering, tempting kiss upon Ewan's lips and headed towards the hospital, to simulate the perfect step-mother._

* * *

The ambulance drove slowly across the icy roads, not wanting to have another vehicle related accident so close to each other. Even if Tony could sometimes be a dangerous magnet of trouble, even he couldn't get into two car accidents in one day, right? No, that was asking a bit too much of fate right there.

The cubicle into which the paramedics dropped off the Gibbs' men was the usual stark, dull white. The curtain had some sort of faded blue pattern, but Tony couldn't make it out over a bunch of swirls and squiggles.

"You know I'm never letting you drive again." Gibbs had taken a seat at the foot of the bed, Tony's tightly wrapped ankle – courtesy of the paramedics – resting elevated in his lap.

"Not like I can with my baby floating at the bottom of a damn lake." The young man grumbled, wrapping his arms across his chest. He'd discarded his slightly damp jacket and had been provided with a pair of dark blue scrubs.

"Better than you swimmin' with it." Gibbs made the compromise with a shrug just as the curtain was drawn back to reveal the rather haggled looking doctor with a substantial file in one hand. Well, Tony's medical history hadn't exactly been easy sailing from day one.

* * *

Tony's ankle had been strapped up and confined to a sturdy brace by the quiet doctor, who had come in, asked the routine questions and set to work without another word. That had suited Tony and his father perfectly well as neither exactly felt like small talk right now. Gibbs had stayed silently, moving from the end of the bed to the head where he was standing now, a hand resting on Tony's shoulder as he turned his head definitely away from the manipulation of his ankle. He'd never show it, unless someone who knew him well took a glance into his expressive green eyes, but it was hurting really quite a lot. The swelling had gone up; the bruising just beginning to form across the usually smooth, tanned skin.

"Alright, that's done." The doctor, who had given his name but hadn't really be registered, said, snapping off his gloves.

"Now, Mr. Gibbs, you say that your son passed out after he was pulled out?" He questioned.

"I didn't pass out." Tony rolled his eyes sleepily, he was feeling pretty tired right about now. Gibbs ignored him, even ignored being referred to as 'Mr' rather than 'Agent', he couldn't quite be asked at the moment.

"Yes, he did."

"Da-ad!" Gibbs rolled his eyes, his head following as he focused on his nineteen year old son's protests.

"Since you can't remember passing out I'll take my own word for it rather than yours."

"Right, well we're going to keep him in for observation in that case, just to make sure everything's alright." The doctor finished, making a mark on the chart. "I'll just get someone to come and admit you."

"No, na-uh, no way. Never, not gunna happen." Tony attempting to swing his legs off the bed and push himself up onto his elbows, but just found his knees bumping into the very solid presence of his ex-Marine father.

"Tony, you're stayin' in if they say you need to. You might've done good today, I'm not saying you didn't, but you need to make sure you're fine. _I _need to make sure." Gibbs voice was final. Tony fidgeted, torn between the idea that being in hospital was almost surely a bad thing that he didn't want to do, and he'd just been guilt tripped by Gibbs. The inner war battled inside his head for a while before he shifted his legs back onto the bed. Gibbs didn't bother hiding the light smile as he tousled his son's thick hair as a nurse slipped in through the faded curtains.

* * *

Stephanie hurried through the doors of the small hospital minutes after Tony was wheeled towards the wards. Her mask slipped expertly into worried step mother, or as the front desk needed to know, mother.

"I'm here for Tony Gibbs, is he here? Where is he?" Her voice quavered as she leant against the front desk towards the girl behind the counter.

"Just calm down ma'am, I'll find out for you."

"Oh, please, hurry, it's my son. He was in a car accident, I need to see him!"

"He's just been transferred to wards, ma'am. Third floor, eighth room on the left." The girl informed Stephanie, he thanked her briefly and hurried off towards the elevators, her heels clicking on the floor.

The elevator dinged cheerfully, and she rushed out, heading up, counting the doors as she went. Door number eight on the left.

"Jethro! Anthony!" He exclaimed as she entered the room. "I was so worried, are you alright?" She kissed Jethro on the cheek, leaning forward to give Tony a hug, which he returned somewhat awkwardly due to complete confusion. "Are they keeping you overnight?" Stephanie finally let either of them get a word in edgeways so Gibbs replied.

"Yeah, just for observation. You don't have to stay, Steph, it's alright."

Stephanie's face changed to one of confusion mixed with hurt. "No! Of course I will stay. It'll ease my mind to know that you're okay, Anthony." Her smile was bordering on sickly sweet as she directed the comment towards Tony, who shifted uncomfortably under his bed sheets.

* * *

The drive down from the hospital through the blocked streets of DC was punctuated only by Tony's light snoring from the back seat. The morning was getting on; quickly changing to PM on the clocks when the car finally pulled into the driveway and Gibbs cut the engine with a turn of the key. Opening his door, Gibbs found himself in one of those rare moment of being caught off guard. Instead of crossing to the back seat to wake Tony, he saw that Stephanie had already reached into the back seat on the opposite side and had shaken the teen's shoulder.

"Wake up, sweetie, we're home." Tony stirred, casting a bleary gaze over his step mother.

"What? Where's Dad?" His voice was slightly slurred with sleep, eyes clouded with confusion. Stephanie hid her annoyance behind her sweet smile.

"He's just here, come on, let's get you into the house. It's warmer there."

Tony unbuckled his seatbelt and pretended he hadn't noticed Stephanie's proffered hand as he slid out of the car, making sure his father was _really _there with a casting glance around.

"Crutches." Gibbs reminded him from his position by the door, trying not to play too much of a part in the development of the scene, but he had to cut in somewhere. His son groaned audibly, but Stephanie had already retrieved the annoying items and handed them to the injured, heading up towards the door.

Once inside, Stephanie's surprises just kept coming. She guided the boy towards the sofa, even untying the shoelaces on the one shoe he had on. The brace preventing him from having two on.

"Uh, you really don't have to do that." Tony cut in, obviously uncomfortable. She'd even taken his coat to hang up in the hallway, giving Tony a chance to cast a thoroughly confused look at Gibbs, who merely shrugged. Tony made a move to get up, but found himself being pushed down by two small hands.

"No, no, you will sit here and wait. I'll make some nice omelettes for us, doesn't that sound nice."

"You really, _really_, don't have to do that. I'm not a kid I can look after myself. They discharged me, means I'm fine, okay!" He made another move to locate himself somewhere different, but this time the warm grasp of his father's hands had him secured to the sofa.

"Steph, an omelette would be great, thanks." He shot a smile to her crest-fallen look before she turned towards the kitchen door, vanishing inside to soon be followed by the clatter of pans an the fridge door creaking. Gibbs turned his gaze onto his sulking son.

"You will behave, do what Stephanie tells you whilst I'm at work. Since you're acting like a kid, I'll treat ya like one." Tony knew it was an order, but he couldn't help his tongue running away with him and stating,

"Why? She is always acting… weird towards me, and now suddenly she is so....well, I dunno, nice...oh and you know, I am old enough to look after myself, it's not like I'm dyin' here, it's just a sprained ankle!" He complained, sounding more like a small child than even Gibbs saw him as. He didn't raise his eye line to Gibbs', not feeling like seeing the steely look in the cold blues.

But, the soft touch of two fingers under his chin moved his head upwards to fix onto Gibbs' gaze, it didn't look angry…or annoyed. Instead his voice was soft, calm when he replied.

"_I _know that, son; but if it helps that your relationship improve, do it for me… please?"

The last word was caught off kilter, making Tony blink. The word was rarely used around the Gibbs resident if not in jest. If Gibbs was telling him…well, that was right, wasn't it? Finally he gave a reassuring nod with a small smile attached. Gibbs smiled his own and leant forward to place a light kiss on his son's forward.

"Da-ad!" He chuckled softly, ruffling Tony's hair affectionately before heading upstairs to one of his record quick showers.

* * *

The kitchen had always been where Stephanie had spent most of her time. The only times when she was disturbed in her utensil hung haven was usually in the morning when the whole house made a b-line to the coffee machine. Now, she was alone. The creaking of the carpeted stairs told her the location of the men in the house, which obviously was an advantage of parts.

Omelettes, yes. Simple, easy. She'd only put down her purse when she'd entered the kitchen so it was still sitting pretty on the table ready and waiting. Looking around furtively, she slipped a hand into the purse to retrieve the thin tin Ewan had placed in her possession. She hadn't asked over its contents, she knew it already.

Whilst the pan crackled with the cooking oil and the eggs sat beaten in a small bowl, Stephanie snapped the seal on the tin, carefully prying off the lid. A fine grey powder was covered by a thin plastic film lining the tin. She couldn't help the smile which spread across her lips as she peeled off the film, sprinkling a generous amount of the contents over the eggs before letting them cook in the pre-heated pan.

When Stephanie emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray Tony was idly flicking through the television channels. The teenager slowly moved his feet off the coffee table so his step mother could place the tray in front of him.

"It, ah, smells good." Tony gave her as polite a smile as he could manage. Stephanie returned the smile widely, taking a seat next to him on the comfortable couch. Tony observed the tray for a minute, internally rolling his eyes at the idea of eating it. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry, he just didn't like omelettes all that much, but his father's 'please' was still bouncing round his head like a rouge tennis ball. He'd try, fine!

With a tight smile, he reached forward to pick up the plate, forking a mouthful up just as Gibbs returned from his shower break. Tony almost flinched, more through surprise than anything else, when he felt Stephanie's hand land on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. _Okay, this is surreal, she's so not acting like she used to…_

Gibbs raised his eyebrow at the scene before him, registering the uncomfortable tension in his son's shoulders. Coffee would help with his confusion, always did.

Tony finished his last mouthful, leaning back against the sofa. He'd been feeling lively, if bored before lunch, but that was slowly seeping away. His eyelids felt heavy, his head resting against the back wall. He felt like he'd just run a marathon, not struggled through an omelette. With a deep breath, the teen reached over to sluggishly pick up his crutches, met with a curious look from his father.

"I'm think I'm gunna head upstairs. I'm beat. Thanks Stephanie." Gibbs nodded, but that didn't stop the suspicious twinge in his gaze as his son admitted to feeling tired. This was the kid who would fall asleep whilst talking because he'd refuse to admit defeat. Gibbs had seen him awake for two days straight, ignoring his father's protests, whilst trying to study and then simply collapse on the living room carpet with Dief curled up next to him. He'd rather work himself into the ground than admit defeat. Maybe the pain meds at the hospital were only just now kicking in…two hours later? Well, if Tony was hitting the deck, he could spend a few quality hours of his Sunday afternoon with _The Kelly. _As Tony climbed lethargically up the stairs on his crutches, Stephanie vanished into the kitchen, he found the small door down towards the basement, closing it behind him.

Stephanie had just deposited the tray into the kitchen before she called back towards the stairs.

"Wait a moment, I'll give you a hand, it can't be easy with that foot." Tony blinked. _Help with what…wait, she wants to help me get changed. Okay, that's just weird._

"Naw, that's alright Stephanie." He replied sleepily, not realising just how heavily he was leaning on the crutches. "I think I'll be able to manage on my own, I've been doing it since I was three. Thanks, but…no thanks." He risked looking back with a smile, he so wished he hadn't. Stephanie looked like she was about to burst into tears any moment. Tony dropped his head with a deep sigh, back tracking.

"Okay, maybe I could use a hand with the crutches." He muttered, the energy slipping away with each syllable. Stephanie's expression abruptly changed, looking bright and cheerful and followed the tired teenager up the carpeted stairs.

Tony's room was exactly as he'd left it the day before: the bed half made but not really, at least two pairs of jeans and numerous shirts lying over the backs of chairs and even one over the window frame. Home. But, he wasn't registering this, he was fighting _so _hard just to keep his green eyes open. Dumping his crutches unceremoniously on the floor he flopped, fully clothed, onto his bed. His muscled actually _ached. _Going back to the idea of running a marathon. He was stiff and uncomfortable and just so tired. Lead was a perfect description of his legs right now. Stephanie was beside him, a hand resting on his thigh.

"How are you feeling?"

"T'r'd" Was all of the one word he could muffle out, his tongue feeling fluffy like cotton wool.

"Yeah, I know, darling. Let me just help you." His brain was still firing off protests, but his limbs weren't listening. Even when his shirt slipped over his head. Even when his heavy jeans were slowly pulled off. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could feel it felt wrong, her fingers brushing over his leg. No. No, no, just no. _Away, jus' go away, away now._ But, he did nothing about it, hell he was already drifting in and out of consciousness.

A blanket was pulled up over his freezing body, the pillow moved slightly under his head. A cool hand caressed his cheek, his neck, stopping just over his collarbone. There was no way this was right, he wasn't supposed to be this tired. He just wanted to scream, scream for his dad, scream for her to leave!

But he couldn't, he'd lost the battle with his eyes, but he still felt the kiss pressed against his cheek before consciousness slid away completely.

_Oh, she'd been waiting such a long time for this. She had him right there, exactly where she'd so longed to have him. What fun she could have whilst Jethro was at work. She let her eyes slide back to the prone, still figure. _We're going to have fun tomorrow, my darling Anthony…well, at least I am.

_With this thought clearly playing through her mind she pulled the door closed behind her with a soft click, throwing the room into dim gloom._

* * *

**Oh, Step Mother of Doom! Or the Omelette of Doom! Yeah, I know, I'm insane it's brilliant. I'm in a fantastic mood at the moment, I think it's the reviews. Reviews make me write faster, it's a good circle of happiness. I'll keep this one short and simple. Yay! Playin' the game, Jen! It's all good, we're all happy aren't we. I'll be quite now.**

**Eryn **_**& **_**Annika**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Know it By the Feeling**

The clock metaphorically ticking away in its digital state read 03:22 when the scream echoed through the otherwise quiet house. Gibbs woke with a start, sitting up before he'd even registered what was going on. It was the second scream that had him throwing back the covers and sprinting down the hallway. Stephanie rolled over, her pale eyes watching the hallways light flick on with a satisfied smile.

Gibbs skidded to a halt beside the door to Tony's room, pushing the handle and door with his shoulder at the same time. The sight made him catch his breath: Tony's bed covers were strewn across the floor, flung away by his flailing limbs. Two strides and he was beside the bed, a hand securely on his son's shoulder, eyes flicking towards his damaged ankle.

"Hey, hey! Tony, wake up. Wake up, Tony!" His voice was as close to a command as he could get in his slightly panicked state. All he was rewarded with was an anguished moan as Tony's back arched against the bed, mumbling in his panic.

" 'M sorry! I'm sorry, father, I didn't do it! I didn't mean to, no, please. Please!" Gibbs heart juddered in his chest, clenching painfully as Tony's referral to his "father" caught in the air. Gibbs kept a firm hold on the boy's shoulder, taking the other hand to rest against Tony's cheek, running a calloused thumb lightly.

It took a few minutes, the mumbling becoming unintelligible. Gibbs kept his hand cupping his son's cheek, stroking it gently as Tony started to still, green eyes flickering as the attempted to focus.

"No! Leave m'alone!"

But, Tony's reaction was far from expected when his green eyes popped open. His hand was suddenly pushed away forcefully as Tony scrambled away, his back colliding violently with the backboard of his bed. Fear burnt in those wide green eye. Gibbs kept his position, the confusion and hurt flashing over his eyes at the state of his boy.

"Tony, son. It's okay, it's me." His voice was soft, but he didn't push it, just sat back slowly. Tony blinked, taking a shuddering breath, his eyes darting around before focusing on Gibbs.

"Dad?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah, kid." Gibbs reached out a hand slowly, cupping the side of Tony's face. His son leant into the contact, swallowing thickly, a shudder running through his shoulders as he stretched back out on the bed, his ankle starting to throb again as the adrenaline high wore off.

" 'M sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to…" He drifted off, realising he'd shoved away the hand of the one person he trusted the most. He swallowed again, trying to contain the confused tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

"Having nightmare's often, lately?" Gibbs question cast Tony's eyes downwards,

"No, this was the…the first in a long time. I thought they'd stopped, I thought they'd go…!" He trailed off again, incredibly thankful for his father's hand as it rested on his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Breathing out, Tony wrapped his own arms around his father. He didn't care if he was nineteen, he did feel about nine right now trying to barricade back the tears. Gibbs ran a hand down his back comfortingly. Up and down in a steady rhythm.

The silence drew out as Tony's weight slowly leant more and more against Gibbs' chest, the exhaustion taking over once more as he lay; safe in his father's embrace. Laying the teenager back down, Gibbs pulled up the blanket from the floor, tucking it around his boy before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Gibbs sleep patterns were disrupted frequently by the soft moans and groans emanating from up the corridor. By five he'd stopped trying, taking a vigil beside his son's bed. None of the nightmares were ever as bad as the first and a soothing hand brushing across his forehead seemed to be enough to calm the boy down before he even woke, most of the time. The weak sunlight had just begun to rise as Gibbs drifted off, head resting against his chest.

But, his internal alarm clock sparked him out of his gentle slumber. He raised his head, neck cricking at the odd angle it had been at for the time being. Blinking away the light sleep, his blue eyes scanned the room, to be met with the piercing stare of green.

"How long've you been awake?" Gibbs asked softly, leaning an elbow on the mattress. He received no answer, just a flat, blank stare.

"Tony?" Gibbs frowned, the unfocused eyes were slightly unnerving. He reached forward to gently grasp his son's shoulder through the sheet which covered him. As soon as his fingers brushed against the sheet, Tony jerked, eyes flicking into focus. His confused gaze landed on his father, just as the concern registered.

"Are you alright?" The typical, traditional and perfectly valid question passed Gibbs' lips as he surveyed his son. Taking in his slightly pale face, his slightly wide eyed look. Tony stared for a moment.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay." He only half finished the word as a yawn broke through which he attempted to stifle unsuccessfully. Gibbs smiled, getting to his feet.

"Sleep, son."

"Where're you goin'?" The teen murmured, although his head was nuzzled back into the soft pillow.

"Work, but just for a few hours, I'll be back at lunch. You know you can call if you need _anything._" Special emphasis was placed on the last word, punctuated with a light smile.

"I know, Dad." The murmur came again, except this time it sounded more like a single jumbled word rather than three.

"Steph'll be around the whole time." Gibbs eagle gaze didn't catch the slight flinch Tony gave at the dreaded name.

"What? What is it?" The teen turned over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating. Coming to a decision, he turned his gaze across to the doorway.

"Nothin', it's nothin'." He yawned again, turning his head to the side. "See you later."

Gibbs nodded, staying for a moment whilst Tony closed his eyes, one hand curled into the thick duvet, the other hidden under the sheets. Gibbs closed the door behind him with a quiet click, changing direction back towards the bathroom and subsequently, the shower.

The digital clock, which Tony had knocked off his bedside table sometime during the night, had counted down the few hours since Gibbs had closed the front door quietly as he left to the time when Tony was roused once more from his sleep. Even though the clock was pressed into the carpet. It didn't stop it telling time. The teenager blinked groggily, letting his senses come around gently. First came the unpleasant feeling of having his shirt stuck to his chest with a thin sheen of sweat that was covering his body. Second was the sickening smell he couldn't quite place. Sight didn't come back quite as easily, everything was still a shade of grey and as blurry as a snow storm.

Something wet and cool pressed against his heated forehead. And that seriously felt good, a calming balm against his battling temperature. Keeping his eyes closed as he turned his head slightly towards the soft wash cloth, a glass was pressed to his parched lips, even without his asking. Tony let a few small mouthfuls trickle down his throat before he muttered, "Thanks, dad." His voice slurred by various signs of fatigue and illness.

"You're dad's at work, darling. But, don't worry, I'm here." Oh, that was the sickly smell: perfume. Tony shifted, his still slightly blurry eyes forcing their way open. He attempted to push himself up onto his elbows, but something snaked across his chest, pushing him forcefully back down. What could that be? A deeper voice, a masculine voice he didn't recognise replied for his 'escape' attempt.

"Oh no, _darling,_ I think it'll be so much better if you stay in bed." Trying to focus his eyes upwards towards the sneering voice. That wasn't anyone he knew, and it certainly wasn't someone he intended to know well.

"No, it's…I'm, just…" Tony trailed off, attempting to form a sentence in his muddled mind, his eyes pricked with fever and his head thumping like a bass drum. He gave another shot at getting up, but that same restriction, which seemed to be an arm, stopped his progress, shoving him more forcefully down onto the mattress.

"Startin' to think he's more trouble than he's worth and we shout just shoot him an' leave him as a present for ol' Jethro." The voice came again, growling with frustration.

"Oh, Ewan, listen to yourself. He's as weak as a kitten and so muddled he probably can't tell which way is up." Stephanie picked up the hand cloth which had slid off Tony's forehead and dipped it back into the bowl of water she had. "You've wanted this for so long, honey, don't let a little frustration ruin everything, not when we're so close."

"When _I'm _so close, Stephy. Me, this is for _me._"

"Of course, Ewan. Of course." The conversation was slipping quickly over Tony's head. Some of the words registered, but he wasn't quite capable of stringing them together just yet, just a wash of fluffy cotton wool behind his eyes which was slowly growing less dense and being replaced by nothing at all. Blissful ignorance, but the last thing he remembered was the raging heat. The fire across his entire body.

Stephanie turned her head back towards her docile step-son, a smile curving her thin lips as she registered his slumber once more.

"When is this dose going to ware off, it's far lower than his first." Stephanie continued to bath the young man's forehead whilst Ewan lounged against the closet door. He just shrugged at the question.

"Why you keep doin' that? You're not supposed to be carin' for him." Ewan stated defiantly, glaring his dark glare at his manipulative woman.

"Again, you're just saying we should kill him. If his fever rises he could easily slip into a coma and then he would be nothing but a dead weight and no use as leverage. We need him strong enough to _endure, _Ewan." Stephanie sighed, rolling her grey eyes. "Sometime I don't think you really want Jethro to suffer, Ewan. This isn't the start of what the drug can do, and I thought you wanted Jethro to be there for the highlights.

Ewan huffed in his corner, slouching his shoulder before glancing at his watch. It was only ten past eleven, so much waiting. Hadn't be bloody waited enough? Hadn't he waited for Gibbs enough, years of planning, equipping and processing; now he had to wait longer? Fair wasn't a word that figured highly in his life, but this evening. Oh, it would be sweet. Then 'Fair and Just' would be his companions. The thought let a small smile creep across his lips, a smirk like you'd find on a shark.

"Gunna make coffee." He announced, stalking from the room.

"Oh, make me one too, honey, I'll join you in a moment." Stephanie called after the retreating man, hearing the tell-tale creek of the eighth step on the stairs which she was sure had a broken beam inside. Tony mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, drawing back Stephanie's attention.

"Oh, sweetheart. I know you're feeling bad; you're burning up in there. Temperature is rising so fast, looks like your body has betrayed you. I bet you're screaming for you father inside, but he's not coming. He can't hear you, my sweet, handsome darling. He can't hear you. Maybe after tonight he won't want to hear you, might not even want to. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't, sometimes there are just things you can't get over. Yes, we know the infamous L. Jethro Gibbs is a strong, strong man, but when it comes to children, _his _children.

No, he crumbles like a handful of sand. And we have you, you are his weakness. His only weakness. Oh, my darling, you don't understand. You don't understand just how far he will go, but how disappointed can he be with you? That I don't know; that we'll have to find out. Remember, he was a marine, we were a spoilt, rich child who is possibly spoilt more now than before. It'll be a shock for you, my sweetheart. A shock for him to see how weak you are. I look forward to this, oh, I really do."

Slipping the wash cloth off his fever forehead, Stephanie rested it back into the half-full bowl of water, brushing a hand through the boy's damp hair. "I'll miss you, Anthony." Leaning over the prone figure, Stephanie pressed her lips to Tony's own, giggling softly as she stroked a hand over his heated chest.

The door closed softly behind her when she left, Tony shifted uncomfortably in his fiery prison.

Both Ewan and Stephanie had started off in silence, but not uncommonly, the mixed up Gibbs' mutt had padded into the kitchen to examine the new arrivals. After sniffing at Stephanie's leg and bumping his head against her knee affectionately – and being shoved away with a disgusted foot – he pattered over to the stranger, his tail slowing its excited movement as he sniffed at the man's shoes. Taking a slight step back, Diefenbaker lowered his head, ears flattened against his head, hackles raised along his spine.

"What the hell is wrong with the mutt?" Ewan exclaimed, watching the usually amiable dog with fear. Stephanie shrugged, watching the dog growl with his incisors showing along his mouth-line. Along the corridor, the bell rang.

"Just grab his collar and take him outside. Stay out there yourself, you can't be seen!" He ushered Ewan out, dragging the reluctant mutt out after him. Surprised enough that the usual docile animal had taken to growling, Stephanie wasn't prepared for the sharp snap which the canine aimed at her arm. She yelped out, drawing her arm back as the teeth dug into her forearm. Ewan, eyes wide, jumped in through the back door.

"Bloody dog!" He growled, reaching down to the crouching dog and wrapping an arm around Dief's legs, bundling the animal outside, Stephanie kicked the door shut behind her.

The doorbell rang again, longer this time. Swearing under her breath, Stephanie grabbed a kitchen towel, wrapping it around her injured arm as he made her way towards the door.

The bell was just starting to ring again when Stephanie pulled open the door, much to the surprise of the woman standing outside.

"Oh, Annie," Stephanie stammered, looking over the young agent's wife, "What are you doing here?" Annie smiled, bracing her shoulders against the soft flurry of snow which was falling.

"I came to see how Tony was doing, or at least say a proper thank-you, he was pretty out of it day before yesterday."

"He's asleep at the moment, I'm afraid." Stephanie forced a smile.

"That's alright, I can wait, I just wanted to make sure he was alright. I mean, he did save me and the children, it's not every day you have to thank someone for that."

"Quite, but…uh, he's not feeling too good." Stephanie cursed herself as soon as the concerned look lit up Annie's eyes.

"Really? What's wrong?" The quick reply came.

"Just a little…fever. Nothing big, I think some reaction to the pain medication."

"Oh, maybe I should take a look at him, just check him. I mean, I'm sure you're very capable, but maybe you should take him to a doctor?"

"I…I actually called a doctor, in fact. He told me it was perfectly normal, a side effect…and it just let him sleep it off." Stephanie beamed brightly, fakely.

"Well…if you're sure. I'll check in at another time. Tonight. Tell Tony I dropped by, will you?" Annie didn't sound convinced, but she conceded anyway, stepping back up the driveway.

"Of course I will. Good bye, Annie." Stephanie closed the door with a sigh, leaning against the wall for a moment.

* * *

Annie stepped away from the house, casting a look over her shoulder. Something wasn't quite right there, not by a long way. Sliding back into the drivers seat over her still-warm car, Annie turned on the engine and pulled out of the quiet street, her mind only half on driving.

A few streets away, her concern peaked, causing her to pull over on the side, pulling her phone out of the purse she'd left on the empty passenger seat. Selecting a number, he pressed dial, listening to the dial tone.

"_Agent Cadman speaking." _The voice on the other end informed her.

"Roy, it's Annie, I just went to go check on Tony."

"_How's the kid doin'?"_

"I don't know. Stephanie Gibbs wouldn't let me in, I thought it was a little odd at first, but then I thought that since Jethro's so protective of him then maybe Stephanie was too. But.."

"_But, what?"_

"But…well, she said he was sleeping, so I offered to stay. I mean, it was just an offer to keep her company as well, but she told me that Tony wasn't feeling so hot, said he had a fever."

"_Didn't you ask to give a hand?"_

"No, I did, but she just shot me down again. Told me she'd already spoken to a doctor. I don't like it, Roy. And, what's more, there was no Diefenbaker."

"_Hmm…Maybe he was out the back."_

"In the snow? Tony would never allow that and Diefenbaker _always _greets people at the door. He wasn't even barking from another room. That's not it, though, there was something wrong with Stephanie's arm, I couldn't see it, but she kept trying to hide it."

"_Okay, Annie. I'll check it out with Gibbs; it's not sounding much like them, is it. Okay, well, you don't worry about it and I'll call you when I find him. I'll see you at home, sweetheart."_

"Thank-you, honey."

Putting her phone back onto the passenger seat, Annie rested back against the driver's seat, sighing quietly before she pulled back out into the lunchtime traffic.

* * *

On the other end of the same conversation, Roy tapped his fingers against his phone before also replacing it on the receiver. Now, he didn't actually work for Gibbs any more, and it might sound just that little bit off the hook if he walked in unannounced and said his wife had a hunch something wasn't right. But, then again, he trusted his wife more than anyone around. And, if her suspicions were correct and there was something wrong with Tony and he didn't tell Gibbs he might as well put his own head on a pike.

There was another way, of course, just to make sure he didn't get himself either laughed at, stared at with those slightly worrying blue eyes, or fired. Check Gibbs was there first. And the way to do that? Call one of his team. It was very logical really.

Picking up his phone once again, and ignoring the slightly confused looks he was getting from his greener than green probies, he dialled Peter's number.

"_Dalrym." _The curt voice answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey there Peter, jus' calling to see if Gibbs is around?"

"_Why?" _Peter's voice asked after a moment.

"Oh, you know, just a catch up with the ol' boss."

"_He just left, try and catch him in the __car park. Oh, and tell me what you're really after or I'll get Tasha to call Annie." _And it wasn't a hollow threat; their wives talked more than they did.

"Thanks, man. If he strolls back in with his cup of black swamp water, tell him I called."

"_Sure, you want me to tell him you called me, because I don't think he'd care."_

"Fine, either call me so I can come up or tell him to call me, whichever works."

"_You could try his cell."_

"Yeah, like I hadn't planned to do that already, Pete-y. C'mon, I was senior agent before you, still senior to you now. I'd've thought of that!"

"_No need to get defensive there, Royce. No need at all." _There was a definite smile in that voice. _"Go catch the boss before he's out." _Peter hung up his end of the phone, prompting a grin from Roy and punching in the number for Gibbs' phone. Which only came up with a constant ringing. Of course, Gibbs wouldn't pick up his phone when he _actually _needed to tell him something. Sighing deeply, Roy stood up, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.

"Hold the forte, Howie, I won't be long."

He was followed by a quiet 'yes, boss' from his probie as the elevator doors closed. But, when he reached the car park it was empty of any human life but his own presence. Cursing, one hand resting on a pillar. Ever since his conversation with Annie his own suspicions had been peaking. It wasn't so much to do with Stephanie, he had nothing against her, sure he couldn't quite see Gibbs and her together in any way, but the woman was decent enough. Diefenbaker though? He was a full housedog, the only time he ever left was when he was being taken out for a run, and he'd been to the Gibbs' house plenty of times to know that Diefenbaker's barking was always the first thing that greeted you. Well, he'd catch Gibbs when he came back from his coffee break or lunch. It was midday after all. Drumming his fingers against the pillar for a moment before pushing off, Roy made his way back upstairs towards his desk.

* * *

Stephanie was once again sitting beside Tony's bed, smiling softly to herself. The teenager was shifting restlessly, his breath uneven and hitching constantly. Stephanie ran her tongue across her lips, watching as Tony tossed his head sideways, trying to rid himself off the sheet which seemed to be keeping him prisoner in his burning jail. A small moan escaped his parched lips, a shiver racking through his lean body.

"Must be horrible, sweetheart." She crooned to the trapped young man before her. "Being so helpless, so confined. You're so confined within your own mind, what demons are crawling around inside there. Oh, you're fighting them so hard, I can see it. I can see you. I'm watching you." She leant forward, slicking back his hair against his damp scalp, her grey eyes scanning over the sheet clinging to his body.

"This is only the beginning, sweet pea. You think you're sick, but you are hardly on the brink. Tonight we will plunge you into the canyon. You and you're dear father shall fall, you harder than him I would imagine. For when you hit the bottom, there will be no-one to pick you up. And as you gasp, alone, terrified, all you will hear is well deserved laughter. But, don't worry, after that we shall leave you alone to suffer I would imagine. We can't stay for the whole song, but enough of it." Laughing softly to herself, Stephanie rested a hand on Tony's agitated chest as it shuddered up and down, shifting along with his body.

"There's a car." Ewan hissed from where he'd been standing at the window.

"A black sedan."

"Yeah, just turned into the street, is it _him_?" The last word was softer, a growl.

"Yes, Ewan, it is, honey. Now, come downstairs with me, hide. Quick, give me the vial."

Stephanie hurried down the stairs towards the kitchen, the coffee pot still burbling away cheerfully just as she heard the engine of a car pull in. With speed she hustled Ewan out into the back, where they'd let Diefenbaker for the last hour, taking the small vial he'd been keeping in his back pocket, grabbed a mug from the rack, and the coffee pot. She tipped the precious vial into the mug before adding the dark black coffee, letting the pale liquid mix with a quick stir of a spoon just as the door opened and closed again.

Gibbs shrugged out of his coat, hanging it up beside the door, the snow melting on the shoulders.

"Jethro, honey." Stephanie greeted with a bright smile, the coffee mug in hand. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

"How's he doing?" Gibbs asked, his one track mind kicking into gear. Stephanie just continued smiling, passing the mug to him, which he took without hesitation, the smell was obvious.

"Just fine, he's up in his room. Being stubborn of course, trying to get up." She only half lied. He had tried to leave, but hadn't quite managed it. Stubborn streak.

Gibbs nodded, taking a large swig from the mug and swallowing. Seriously, the woman made such weak coffee. Stephanie followed him silently as he made his way towards the stairs, taking them gently as he swallowed another mouthful. It wasn't hot and it wasn't strong, which means he could drink a hell of a lot of it.

The door to his son's room was still shut, but the creaking of the bed springs caused him to frown slightly, he knew Tony's bed and it only creaked with frequent movement. Which was why he could always tell when Tony had gotten up or when he'd actually gone to bed. Mug still in hand, Gibbs pushed open the door quietly, leaning his head around.

What he saw made him drop the mug. It crashed onto the floor, spilling the rest of it's contents onto the carpet as he darted over to the bed. Tony was writing in discomfort and pain, his eyes screwed tightly shut as his back arched against the bed covered, head buried into the pillow. Gibbs blue eyes registered concern, worry – fear? – as he rested a hand on his boy's sweating forehead.

"God, Tony! You're burnin' up!" He exclaimed, eyes flashing to Stephanie. "How the hell didn't you notice this?" He yelled, only stopping in his rant when Tony visibly flinched away, his breathing turning more to panting. "Call 911." He commanded absently, sliding a hand under Tony's back as his spine arched once more, a groan escaping between his parted lips.

"Tony, Tony, hey, c'mon Tony. It's okay, son. Just breath, just breath." He laid his free hand over Tony's chest, but again he recoiled from the touch, a whimper almost inaudibly above the laboured breathing.

Gibbs hadn't even noticed that his own breathing had stepped up a notch, his hands shaking as he attempted to stroke a hand through his son's hair, but he withdrew from the touch, trying to burrow against the wall opposite his bed, his whole body trembling involuntarily. Gibbs blinked, trying to make the world come into focus. The room was shifting, spinning, unable to hold still. Shifting his gaze he saw Stephanie still standing in the doorway. He attempted to call out, yell at her to get some help and not just stand there! But, his tongue wasn't working.

His hands were working. His brain wasn't working. Grabbing uselessly at the sheets, Gibbs slumped backwards, the name of his son unable to pass his lips as the drug wreaked havoc through his blood system.

* * *

**Nice and long don't you think? But, that means there might be a few mistakes, if there are just overlook them, yes there probably are some there, and I apologise for them. Anyway…are you hanging from the cliff? I'd say our dear Gibblettes are. Poor Gibblettes, they never catch a break do they? Shame, we like them. So, what d'you think? Didn't go over the top much? Well, if I did it's all in the spirit of artistic licence, which I use quite a lot really. I'll be quiet now, or I'll ramble on forever, I love all you reviewers and I'm not going to stop you if you still like it! Thanks a lot!**

**Eryn **_**& **_**Anni**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: It's All A Matter of Conquest**

**I feel a warning must be put just here. The rating has indeed gone up, and the reasons for this are clear…they should be, it might not be suitable. If it is, then forgive me, I'm merely being cautionary. Just a heads up there people, no-one likes getting told off because they've been offended and I don't like to offend people, it's not fun. So, even though I have spent the last paragraph saying I, there are two of us that say thank-you for sticking with us and we hope you enjoy the next chapter! Dedication to Jen, of course, back in the game!**

_Neither remembered a great deal about the journey. Gibbs had stayed unconscious, lying across the floor of the van, shifting with each rough bump on the road. And Tony? Well, he'd been dumped unceremoniously, sprawled across the dirty floor, his head lolling back grotesquely. His shivering had escalated, becoming more pronounced, more jerky, the metal creaking as he shook. Ewan had watched with barely concealed glee just before Johnny slammed the doors. A busy weekday morning, no wonder there was no-one around. Smirking to himself, Ewan clambered into the front seat of the van, Stephanie sitting calmly beside him, with her handbag on her knees. What he hadn't noticed was the curtain across the road tweak back into it's original place just before he drove off, Johnny watching over the precious cargo in the back._

The whole place smelt of damp and rot. The darkness rose up like an all-enveloping cloud that swirled in endless circles around the rooms occupants. A door was sit in the far wall, and that side of the room was considerably warmer than the far side. The layout was unknown to the two unconscious captives as very little light had managed to crawl through the wooden walls, to them the room was an endless black hole.

But in reality it was hardly bigger than Tony's bedroom. Just inside the door lay a filthy, grey-with-age mattress was stretched out over the otherwise bare floor. Each of the wooden walls provided little insulation and sounds could be heard from outside; the soft tapping of braches against the sides, the wind skittering through the trees, footsteps, muffled voices.

Gibbs head rolled onto his shoulder, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, his consciousness taking its time to return. His eyelids blinked lethargically , moving his head as the pounding decreased somewhat. The darkness pressed against his eyes almost painfully, but it did give his sharp hearing a run for the money. Breathing, someone else's breathing. Swallowing again, Gibbs concentrated on each limb separately, making sure all his body parts were in tact. Luckily, it seemed they all were.

Pushing off his position on the wall, Gibbs felt his way across the grit covered floor. The small sliver of dim light that just about managed to sneak under the door crack gave him enough insight to see the outline of a figure sprawled on the bed.

"Tony?" He questioned softly, raising a hand, shocked when he could feel the heat radiating off his child even before he'd touched him. The body underneath his palm bucked, jerking away from the gentle touch.

"Hey, shh, it's okay…" Gibbs murmured bringing up his free hand to place on the boy's burning forehead. His breathing was ragged, his ribcage juddering up and down as he tried to draw breath into his boiling lungs. But, the drug was wearing off slowly, the after effects kicking in as a result. His whole body trembling with the effort, Tony rolled his head across the filthy mattress, trying to blink his hazy eyes into focus.

"Dad?" His voice was barely more than a breath, but in the quiet Gibbs heard the pain stricken voice.

"Yeah, kiddo." He replied softly, resting his palm over Tony's forehead, brushing the damp strands of hair off his pale forehead. There was a moment of quiet, Tony turning his head into the cool touch. Gibbs could feel how his son's brow creased under his hand in pain, his eyes squeezing shut against some unknown agony. The father didn't speak, just carried on a rhythmic stroking of his thumb over the boy's forehead, his blue eyes staring around the cell room.

His head snapped around when Tony's hand suddenly curled around his own, the one rested on his son's heaving chest. "Dad." The voice was, if possible, quieter than last time.

"Dad…I, I don't feel good." _Understatement of the year._ Gibbs leaned over his son, turning his wrist so he could grip the hand on his own. He was about to reply when the stutter in Tony's chest escalated to a full blown spasm as he began coughing.

Moving quickly, Gibbs kept one hand circled around Tony's, who had tensed so his hand was gripping his father's tightly, he slid an arm under Tony's shoulder and raised him up into a sitting position. Tony's chest hauled up and down as air refused to make its way into his lungs. The coughing continued, horrible dry growls from inside his throat. The grip on Gibbs hand tightened in panic, the dark room swirling before him as light-headedness crawled in.

Gibbs slid behind his son, drawing his body against his chest to keep him upright just as the coughing started to subside. "Breath, Tony. C'mon…that's it kid, just breath." He muttered in the boy's ear as his chest arched upwards, ribcage expanding to let him gulp in the much needed oxygen. "That's it, kid, good." Tony slumped back against his father, the energy spent through the coughing fit had been something he didn't possess and exhaustion had taken over. The hand clasped in Gibbs' loosened slightly, but in no way let go. He didn't care if he was nineteen, he might as well be nine now.

"I'll get you out of here." Gibbs vowed, not realising he'd said so out load.

"Yeah, I know." Tony panted softly, his head resting back against Gibbs shoulder. Gibbs bit back a sigh. The pride in his chest flipped at the obvious sign of trust his boy had just given him. Trust that he would get him out, trust in whatever plan he happened to have.

The thing was…he didn't have a plan. But, now, with that incentive, he'd have it ten times faster.

It wasn't long before Tony's shivering returned. Scooting back slightly, Gibbs managed to lie his son back down on the mattress, his head cradled in the father's lap. Gibbs resumed stroking the boy's head as he curled up, bringing his knees up to his chest, he would've given anything for a blanket right now.

Time passed, but without a clock or any indication of the sun's movement, Gibbs didn't know how long. Tony had curled up on the mattress; head nestled safely in Gibbs' lap, only the occasional shiver running down his spine. The father still had his hand resting on Tony's shoulder, calming his boy whenever he stirred in his slumber.

The door, which Gibbs had given a quick explore with a hand running over the cold surface, had remained clearly locked until now. Gibbs hadn't even been able to find a door handle on this side of the metal. Now, however, the door creaked back on its hinges, banging into the door back into the stone wall. Tony jerked back to consciousness, and it was hardly a welcoming imagine.

"Oh, isn't that _sweet_." Ewan crowed at the sight, eyes dark. "Daddy and baby." He chuckled to himself, stringing harsh emphasis on his next words. "Father and son."

Tony's head was turned towards Gibbs, his back to the other dark occupants of the room. Sometime after Ewan had entered, Stephanie had leant against the door frame, her eyes scanning the scene with an unreadable expression in her twisted eyes. Gibbs hadn't bothered looking over at Ewan when he entered, just kept his eyes on Tony, squeezing his shoulder gently when the boy tensed at the voice penetrating the cold room.

"Do you know why you are here?" Ewan's voice once again echoed around the quiet room, and once again, since consistency worked a treat, Gibbs ignored him, his calm blue eyes meeting with Tony's as he rolled his head slightly.

"I am talking!" Ewan shouted; the whole room echoing as the sound engulfed the small space. Ewan's hand clenched by his side, jaw tightening enough to make his teeth creak. Oh, how close he was to hitting him, how very close. His jaw still as tense as ever, Ewan raised his head jerkily, glaring at someone beyond Gibbs' eye line, but what Gibbs could see was the growling sneer which spread across Ewan's face a moment later. The measly amount of light which had coloured the room was suddenly cut off from view. Gibbs turned sharply, or as sharply as he could with the drugs still tainting his system and slowing his reflexes. A hand clamped down on the agent's shoulder.

In a swift movement, Gibbs brought his own hand up to counter the strong fist digging into his shoulder, but Ewan moved at the same moment, hauling his boy from his lap. Gibbs only managed to lash out with a leg and catch Ewan on the knee before an arm the size of an elephant, and with the same amount of pressure, wound around his chest, yanking him back from lunging out.

Tony, still as weak as a kitten and just as cute, fought pathetically against Ewan's grip, his green eyes flashing back over to Gibbs with a pleading look.

"He can't help you now, sweetheart." Stephanie crooned, pushing off the door frame, moving seductively over towards Ewan, reaching out a hand towards Tony.

"Don't you touch him, bitch." Gibbs spat, still struggling against the secure hold that had his wrists in a vice and his upper body trapped back against the wall. He'd felt something snake around his wrist, but his muddled mind hadn't yet identified it.

"Oh, Jethro. That is hardly the way to speak to your wife. And it's hardly a way to talk in front of your dear son, it can't teach him any good habits at all." She laughed a silly little laugh, turning away from Gibbs to run a hand over Tony's light brown hair. He jerked away from the touch, but he really wished he hadn't. Having a cougar such as Stephanie caress his hair seemed like a better option to the vicious fist that ploughed into his stomach. The air sped from his lungs, leaving him bent over, eyes wide as the shock hit him worse than the actual fist.

"You bastard!" Gibbs' voice cut through his haze. "Tony. Tony, kid, c'mon breath," He coached from afar, yanking his wrists against the bonds holding them behind his back.

"Me? I'm the bastard?" Ewan shrieked, pulling Tony back against him in a painful jolt which left the teenager gasping again. "There is one bastard in here, _Agent Gibbs_, and that is you. I'm just here to pay you back." He ended in a snarl. His fist once again dove straight into Tony's sore stomach before the mad man dropped the boy unceremoniously to the floor. He hit the ground with a thump, groaning pitifully.

"What do you want?" Gibbs snarled, matching Ewan's previous tone.

"Think, Agent Gibbs. Think." Ewan sneered, nudging Tony with a foot. Gibbs jerked against his restraints. No-one was touching his kid.

"Remember me, Agent Gibbs. Or if you are too small minded, think about the name."

"What name?" Gibbs eyes burnt into Ewan's.

"Richard Pears."

_The summer breeze drifted around the house. The sun was just beginning to set and the time was quickly drawing on towards a summer evening. Gibbs crouched down, feeling the presence of his partner behind him, watching over the house. The undercover operation had so far been going well. Nothing had been compromised and no-one had been made. The weapons smuggling ring had been running for just over a month under the NCIS radar, and as far as Gibbs was concerned, it wasn't going to go on any longer. He had an agent, Roy, inside and Peter was backing him up. Pacci had a team over the other side of the road, sitting invisible in the shrubbery. _

_The door of the house opened casually, revealing three men. Two targets and Roy. Right where they wanted them. They had enough recorded conversation to keep the dirtbags away for the duration of their miserable lives. Gibbs sat quietly, waiting for the optimum moment, his radio ready to signal Pacci._

_It didn't go down quite as planned. When Gibbs signalled, Pacci's team drew their guns, shouting the traditional order to get down on their faces with their hands behind their heads. But, no, it was never that simple. The first dirtbag, Terrence Pormac, made a grab at Roy, only to end up with an angry NCIS agent grabbing his arms and twisting them painfully behind his back. The second dirtbag, however, one Richard Pears, had made a break for the car, ducking under the warnings before the 'pock' of bullets smacked into his car. _

_Before either Pacci or Gibbs could reach the bastard, he'd already pulled out from the dirt road, speeding away up the road. Gibbs had grabbed Peter, thrown him in the car and floored the accelerator. The sedan had sped after Pears' truck, Pacci in tight pursuit. The corners had been tight and winding, the ground dropping away from the road on each side as the cars skidded through the twists of the forested track. The truck skidded around a corner, Pears over compensating and the car fish tailed completely. Gibbs had smacked into the break, but the sedan had still not had enough time to stop. It had smacked into Pears sedan, making the black truck skid a few feet closer to the drop over the edge._

"_NCIS, get out of the car and put your hands on the hood." Peter had yelled, exiting the car himself. There had been no answer from the truck. No answer until the flash of a firearm caught Gibbs attention. He'd been raising his own SIG before the first shot was fired._

"_I'll never come!" Pears had screamed manically, letting off shots towards the sedan at random. Gibbs had taken the shot through the wind screen and through the mad man's shoulder. Pears had jerked backwards, the force of the bullet hitting his shoulder causing the car to groan, the back wheels slipping down the steep in climb._

"_Dalrym, here!" Gibbs yelled as he dashed around the side of the truck to try and pull the driver out before the car rolled over. Peter sprinted to his boss's side, but the car creaked once before rolling over itself, crashing down the fern covered hill. _

Gibbs could remember that case vividly. Richard Pears had survived the bullet to the shoulder. He'd survived the crash through the undergrowth, just barely. He'd survived the car blowing up only because Gibbs and Peter had been quick enough to skid down the steel hill and drag Pears out by his shirt. Air lifted to hospital, taken straight to surgery, Richard Pears had spent three days in the worst sort of agony before he flat lined and slipped away.

Yes, Gibbs remembered him. Remembered his pained screams. Remembered the failure of the case. The wild look in his eye. The same look Ewan held now in his dark eyes. Gibbs raised his own gaze towards the slouching figure, Ewan grinned back.

"Yeah, you know, Agent Gibbs. You remember. Richard Pears. My _Father. _You kill my father, murdered him." His voice turned colder, becoming icy by the final sentence.

Ewan growled to himself, "What was that thing I was showing you, Stephy?" He turned his gaze back on the crumpled heap breathing heavily at his feet. Stephanie, who had been watching Tony with interest, rose, pulling a sheaf of paper from her coat pocket.

"What this?" She asked innocently, unfolding the thick wad of paper. "Oh, well, this is a report, darling."

"A report of what?"

"Of injuries. A report of the post mortem carried out on Richard Pears. Quick a collection too." She giggled, running a thin finger across the page on top.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs. A huge collection of painful, deadly injuries. Broken bones, bruises, internal bleeding, burns, concussion, _gun shot wound._ All these and more." Ewan sneered, stepping over Tony's form, grounding into Gibbs personal space, his voice so low Gibbs barely caught it. Ewan pushed the paper into Gibbs' face, the list of injuries highlighted on the front page.

"I am going to make you suffer as I suffered. I had to watch him die in agony. I will do the same, _slowly_, for you boy. I didn't believe you'd have a child, but he has become the perfect resource for my pain. By the end, you won't want to look at his broken, beaten, burned body. You won't forgive yourself and you'll be disgusted by his weakness, for he is weak. He will die the same way my father did. In pain and alone. You will die inside, like I did. Say goodbye to your child _Agent Gibbs. _Say goodbye to your sanity."

Ewan stepped back. "We'll start at the top." He grinned cheerfully, manically, handing the paper back to Stephanie after he'd flipped through a page or two. Gibbs breathed out, not realising he'd been holding his breath, opening his mouth just as Ewan's foot came back, aiming mercilessly for his son's chest.

The last thing Tony heard was his father's scream of 'No!' before the pain erupted once more.

**This is possibly the tardiest reply ever. But, it's here. FINALLY! Anyway, thanks for sticking around, it means a lot. Please review if you liked something, or just review anyway, everyone knows reviews are like pizza. Anyway, what do you think? It can be good that Tony's a fictional character or he'd be in a very miserable spot right now, poor kid. Jen? Well, I couldn't be left out of this, could I? So here it is, dedicated to you. **

**Eryn & Anni**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Looking At The Ghost Of Me**

**End of this chapter…yeah not so nice. Just a warning of some abuse, it's not horrific, but if it's not your thing don't read. Friendly warning.**

_It was cold. Just so cold. Darkness flooded his vision and clouded his judgement. Pain was intermittent grey shadows, threatening at the edges of his mind; closing in. Dark figures, sneaking, skulking, dragging closer; monsters in the dark, moving in. Creatures in the gloom._

"_Tony!"_

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The room was a horror film. Dark, shadowed corners, silent but the creak of rope and the soft flap of photographs in the breeze. Each wall was covered in the gruesome images, autopsy evidence: bruises, x-rays, gory gashes, half heeled sutures now removed. Each of Richard Pears' injuries, catalogued and displayed around the room, kept up in view until that image had been transferred onto the huddled ball on the floor.

The door was closed once more, letting only the minimum of light in. Enough for gruesome shadows. Two shadows. One cast on the wall, shivering, curled, vulnerable. The second cast on the ceiling, struggling, tugging, distressed.

_Far away voices. Calling, pleading, commanding. So cold…just so cold._

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"_Dalrym."_

"Guess who, Probie!"

"_I'm not a probationary officer any more, Royce."_

"You are to me, kiddo."

"_Roy! I'm the same age as you."_

"So? Is your fearless master back?"

"_Nope, not yet."_

"What? How long does it take to get coffee?"

"_Who said he was getting coffee. Maybe he's gone home to check on Tony. Ever thought of that, oh high and mighty leader of an investigating team?"_

"Yeah, good point. One second." Roy put a hand over the speaker, looking over at his new team. "Hey, Howie!"

"Yessir!" The young, eager brunette, Agent Howard Grisham actually stood up from his desk, Roy rolled his eyes.

"Sit down." Command accepted. "Call a number for me." He ripped off the Gibbs' household number that he'd memorized ears ago from when he'd needed a babysitter.

"Oh it, sir!"

"_Got your lackies calling for you? Abuse of power?"_

"They're not lackies, Peter, they're agents. I'm just training them up."

"_Bull crap."_

"Shut up." Roy sniggered

"Got no answer, boss. Didn't even go to voicemail." Howie reported from his desk, letting the phone continue to ring on, even though nothing was actually happening.

"That'll be because they don't have an answering machine. Agent Gibbs works on the assumption that if something's important they'll call back." Roy muttered, his voice suddenly serious, such a change from the light banter he'd been engaged in moments before. Someone should be at that house, whether it was Tony, Stephanie or Gibbs. Someone.

"Peter, something's up."

"_Yeah, me, I'm a floor up from you. Meet you here in five." _Peter had registered the tone of his friend's voice, both agents hanging up at the same time. Roy pushed his chair back, grabbing his coat from the back and the car keys from his desk drawer.

"Howie…no, no sit down Grisham…keep going through the Bagwell case files, call me if anything comes up."

"Yes, sir…erm, sir? Where are you going?"

"Out." Royce replied shortly, jumping into the elevator moments before the door slid shut.

Peter was waiting, already pulling his arms through his jacket when Roy exited the lift at the third floor.

"Explain everything." Peter's voice was clipped. The young officer who had replaced Roy at the desk opposite Peter frowned.

"What are you _doing_? Gibbs said to keep looking at this cold case."

"And if he calls, tell him to call me, Racine." Roy's voice was authority. Ignoring the woman's protests, Peter and Roy jogged to the elevator.

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"Just had this bad feeling 'bout it, so did Annie. So, we're gunna check it out." Rou finished, indicating through the traffic that he was about to turn into Gibbs' road.

"You called Annie again?"

"Not yet, don't want her worried." Roy shook his head, jaw tight.

The sight in the road made Peter's mouth drop open, Roy stopped dead, foot slamming down on the break.

Police tape cris-crossed the road in a miserable, unwelcoming spiders web in the late winter afternoon. Roy was already running as the door to his car banged shut.

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't pass this line." A uniformed office stopped him.

"NCIS." Roy flashed his badge, ducking under the tape. "Who's in charge?"

"Detective Tyne." The uniform indicated with a thumb towards a thick coated, slightly balding man a hundred yards away. Roy nodded his thanks, Peter following him closely, filing his badge away in his jacket pocket.

"Special Agents Cadman and Dalrym, NCIS, fill us in."

"Why?" The detective eyed them grimly.

"Tell us what's happening and I'll give you a reason." Peter interjected. Detective Tyne sighed.

"Got a call in at 1:36pm, neighbour witnessed a man and his kid thrown into a van and the van drove off."

"Witness?" Curt question from Roy.

"Neighbour over there." Tyne jerked his head towards the left where a woman was talking to another policeman.

"Licence plate." Similarly curt tone from Peter.

"Partial, '9I142'." Tyne flicked through his notepad.

"Descriptions." Another from Peter.

"Of what?"

"The kidnappers, the kidnapped, the van, hell the _weather_! Are you actually a detective?" Roy fumed, stepping as close as humanly possible to the detective without actually having to touch him.

"Urm," Tyne took a step back. "The kidnapped are the guy that lives there and his son according to the neighbour. The kidnappers were a man and a woman. Man was short and woman apparently also lives there. Neighbour didn't know her name for sure."

"Stephanie." Peter's shoulders tensed.

"That was one of the names she said, yeah. How d'you know?" Tyne narrowed his eyes.

"Now an NCIS case, thanks Detective Tyne."

"What? No! This is my case!"

"No, detective. This is an NCIS case. This house is an _NCIS _agent's house, and an _NCIS _Agent has been kidnapped. Thank-you." Roy walked off towards a coned off area around a screech pad tyre mark.

"Pete, call in my team and get this print to forensics, I want an ID on that van, and I wanted it now."

"Yes, boss." Peter replied automatically, pulling out his phone. Roy set his shoulders, moving towards the familiar house.

Not much looked out of place; it was the same neat living room leading onto the kitchen and the stairs moving up towards the second floor. Even the inset door which lead to the basement, closed as usual. The TV, the comfortable back sofa, the back door…The back door. Was that slightly ajar? It was, wasn't it.

Moving carefully across the wooden floor, Roy edged towards the door, gun in hand. Easing open the door, Roy scanned across the garden. Then he heard it. The scrabbling, snuffling, coming from the shed. Creeping forward in the afternoon light.

One hand grasped the door handle, stepping to one side and pulled. A blur of fluffed up, grey, brown and black fur buzzed passed Roy, barking, teeth flashing

"Dief!" Roy shouted, holstering his weapon as the dog's tail started wagging. The agent knelt down, scratching the animal behind the ears.

"What happened here, what are you doing out here?" Roy murmured, straightening and making his away back to the house, Dief trotting behind.

"Roy?" Peter's voice called.

"Yeah, Pete?"

"Got the samples and phones, team hasn't arrived yet."

"Get an ETA, I'm gunna have Annie take Diefenbaker."

"Right,"

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"The only licence plate which matched the partial and the description of the van is a grey Ford Transit registered to Ewan Pears. The tire treads match up." Howie reported proudly, still standing in front of Roy's desk, Peter leaning his palms on the table, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen.

"Pears? Where do I know that name?" Roy mused to himself.

"Pears?" Peter cut in. "As in Richard Pears?"

"That drug bust…what was it, seven years ago?" Roy frowned. "Something like that."

"Oi, what's his name…um, Grisham." Peter snapped his fingers at Howie. "Pull up a case file, seven years ago, Richard Pears, check about a Ewan Pears, brother, cousin, son, anything."

"On it, sir!" Keys clacked on a keyboard. "Petty Officer Richard Pears…deceased in hospital seven years ago due to…um…a lot of injuries, wife's dead….and one son, Ewan Pears."

"What happened in the case." The third member of Roy's team, Agent Hipkirk, piped up from his desk.

"Shoot out at the end, I'd been working undercover to take the drug dealers down. Middle of the flurry Pears managed to get to a car, Pete and Gibbs gave chase, think Gibbs shot him and Pears drove over some cliff. Got out just before the thing blew up, must've died in hospital after that." Rou scrubbed a hand across his chin.

"Hipkirk, get a picture of Ewan Pears, see if he matches the witness description."

"Sure thing." Hipkirk pulled up a photograph along side the likeness Gibbs' neighbour had given. The details matched up horribly.

"And the woman?" Peter's voice was hollow as he replied.

"Bring up a picture of Stephanie Gibbs."

The pictures matched to the letter.

"I will kill her." Roy vowed, his eyes staring at the plasma with undisguised disgust.

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Tony groaned, curling up tighter.

"Tony!" That voice, such a good tone of voice, such a good voice.

"Come on, son, Tony!" He liked that voice, always had. It was a voice of safety and love and…he loved that voice. Had to do what the voice said, what was the voice asking?

"Tony, can you hear me? Open your eyes!"

Opening eyes. But, it was so difficult. He could just sleep. _No. _The voice had told him to, he couldn't disobey the voice.

Gibbs leant forward to the extremes of the ropes tightly securing his hands to the wall behind. His eyes flicked over his son's prone body, wrapped up in itself, hiding from the world. But, there was the flicker of movement, the merest flicker of life. A groan punctuated the silence.

"Hey, kiddo, c'mon." He muttered, his mantra quickly making his throat sore. Tony blinked lethargically, twisting his head minutely.

"D'd?" The voice was a mumbled mess. Gibbs sighed out in relief, never taking his eyes off his boy.

"Hey, Tony, gave me a scare there."

"M's'rry." Tony mumbled again, trying to turn towards the voice as consciousness came back. His stomach felt like it was on fire, burning up through his chest. His feet felt numb from the cold floor and his fingers were stiff from their constant tension, clenching into his palm. Finally managing to bring up enough energy, Tony stretched out slightly on his side, trying to bring the blurry figure of his father into focus.

"You 'kay?"

Gibbs couldn't hold back the chuckle. "Don't you worry about me, Tony, don't you even think about it."

The door opened with an ominous creak. Revealing a grinning Ewan.

"I see he's awake. How _lovely._" He sniggered to himself, striding across the room and ignoring Gibbs yanks against the thick, immovable ropes which Jonny had fixed above his head.

"Pick me a picture, my darling." Ewan almost sang to Stephanie as she prowled into the small enclosure, running her index finger along the photo covered walls.

"I like…this one." She purred, handing an X-ray to Ewan.

"Oh…good choice. This show, well I'm no doctor but maybe you can already see it." Ewan held the film up to the light from the doorway, right in Gibbs eye line.

"No, don't you think about it. Don't you _dare_! I will kill you."

"Strong words, _Agent _Gibbs. Won't be much of an agent after this. A blubbering heap, a moron." Ewan chuckled, turning across to Stephanie. "How should we do this? I think I may need a _hand. _Bring in Johnny." The grin was feral.

Johnny lumbered in with all his bulk, momentarily bolting out the light.

"Come here, Johnny, put one hand…here. And hold on, tight. I don't want this going wrong," Ewan shot a wide eyed, manic smirk at Gibbs, ignoring the shouts from the father. Johnny's hand was clamped down on Tony's shoulder, holding the boy secure, one arm resting on his abused stomach, stopping any movement with a painful elbow pushed into his abdomen. Tony moaned, confusion, pain, fever.

Ewan pulled out Tony's wrist, spreading it out from his side, exposing it. One hand secured his wrist as Ewan shifted his position.

"You might want to cover your ears, Daddy." With a swift motion, Ewan brought down the heel of his boat on Tony's forearm. Twice. _Crack_

Tony's scream cut over Gibbs' yells as the madman twisted the broken arm upwards, one foot still fixing the arm to the floor. _Crack._

The discarded X-Ray lay on the cold floor, the pale sections of bone showing the two bones of the forearm, the ulna and the radius. Crushed. Comminuted fracture.

Tony's world greyed at the edges, smudges colouring his already hazy consciousness. Ewan's laugh cut through like a cold smack in the face. Or did he just receive a smack across the jaw?

"You _bastard_!" Gibbs voice was controlled, only slightly shaky. Ewan's laugh stopped.

"This is bad? I haven't started yet." His voice was cold, villainous. "Stephy, get me another picture."

"Of course, my sweat pea." Stephanie's lilting voice was like an icicle dropped down Gibbs' back.

"What the hell are you, Stephanie?" He growled, his blue eyes glued to the prone figure of his boy, panting in agony, unable of comfort, beyond hearing it.

"Me? I'm a lever, Jethro. Never could resist a red-head, could you?" She chuckled softly, plucking a new photograph off the wall.

"Oh, this is my _favourite._" Ewan premed. "I was hoping this would come up soon."

"What, what is it?" Gibbs demanded, trying to crane to see the photograph.

"Na-uh! Naughty! You'll see soon enough, Gibbs…if you're still sane by then."

Gibbs' eyes screamed as Ewan pulled out a serrated edge jack-knife from his coat pocket. His eyes screamed and his mouth yelled.

The photograph discarded on the floor, long, jagged, stitched gashes, littering Richard Pears torso like an abstract painting. Raised, red, raw.

Potentially fatal

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**Does this answer your question Meilea2010? And I said the last reply was tardy? Guess I've been caught up a bit, but here it is. I know, Queen of the Cliffhanger. I think there should be a crown. Angst and a cliffhanger, I'm so evil and mean. Anyway, that's it my delightful munchkins, I might get another one up soon, but who knows. It's all a question of when, why and who. Look Jen! I'm being brave and stupid, three in one! Am I insane? Anni, got some workin' to do haven't we!**

**Eryn [Soul Music]**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Is This All There Is?**

_A gun shot wound is a confusing matter, a confusion idea. There are many who think that a bullet cuts through flesh like a knife through butter. But, they're wrong. They're so wrong. It twists, and turns, rips and splits and cleaves. Through the skin, through the muscle. And then there's bone. What does it do when it reaches bone? It chips, it clips, it grinds, it cracks, And it hurts. But, not for long_

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

_Don't look over your shoulder, that's just the ghost of me._

That was it, a ghost, the shell of the boy before him. A shadow of a previous life, silent, limp, disgraceful. An unknown, unrecognisable muck.

_He didn't scream, he didn't beg, he didn't even cry…yet. Had the boy with so much soul...had he no energy left, had he no spirit?_

A map, that was the likeness which came to mind. An intricate painted map. The sea was a drenched out purple, splashed all over his torso. Islands, blocks of land, dashed out in yellow and black, the purple lapping at the edges, sneaking up the coasts. But, the rivers. The esturies and dams, the bridges, floods and meanders. No, _wrong. _They snaked down, dripping onto stone, smudged with crimson.

_Drip, splash, drip, splash._

In the darkness, the streams were black, coursing through the islands, riding over the sea and escaping. Blood; black, sticking, gruesome, smeared across the floor, soaking into _his _shirt. The warmth of his boy, seeping out and causing chills. Held still, the strong, smiling child. His child. His boy. His _baby. _Limp, lifeless, cold. The warmth of his blood chilling the father to the bone.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ewan sat back on his heels, admiring the handiwork. His jack-knife was stained, shining in the light. His artwork had never screamed, just struggled, and snapped and scratched. No noise, though. No, the noise had come from the other side of the room. They'd had to stop that, far too much noise. Sedating him had been the only option, the only way not to attract attention. Attention from who? There was no-one here! That was the whole point! Fantastic.

Stephanie stood quietly beside Johnny, who was as stoic as ever. Like a brick wall. Ewan turned his malicious smile on her, eyes twinkling as he wiped a bloody hand on his jeans.

"He looks so…" She paused, thinking.

"Small? Hurt? Dirty? Dying?" Ewan supplied, straightening up.

"Ruined." She finished, staring down at the unconscious heap.

"I think he looks like a hunk of meat. And Johnny, what do we do with tender, juicy steaks?" Johnny turned his head slowly, brows furrowing before he brightened.

"Cook 'em?"

"That's right, Johnny, cook them. A good, hearty barbeque." With a soft laugh, Ewan left, Johnny lumbering behind him. Stephanie stayed her ground for a few more minutes, staring down before she took turned and left, closing the door behind her.

……………………………………………………………

He was miserable. No other words spoke volumes of just how he felt. Cold. Cold was soaking up from the ground, into his bones, grinding in. Pain spread its wings and was now playing the xylophone across his ribs and plucking the tendons in his arm like a harpsichord. The world was cold, the world was pain, the world was misery.

And now he opened his eyes. Same room, same day, new pain. He just wanted to curl into a ball, cry the day away. Cry away the nightmare. _Make it stop. _

So, he crawled, dragged, whimpered. To his father. Limp, hanging, seated against the wall, eyes cold.

"Dad?" The voice was paper-thin, paper-weak. No answer, the tears threatening.

The tears fell.

Curled into his father's unresponsive lap, completely spent, head resting on the softly rising chest,

He felt so cold, so drained. So miserable.

"Daddy?" The whisper, the whimper slipped out, crushed arm resting limp in his lap, body crumpled into a loose ball against Gibbs.

Hazy emerald eyes, absent of their spark and spirit, slid shut, a tear still wandering down the battered cheek, skittering on the edge, then down, down onto the concrete floor.

…………………………………………………………………..

Waking was, again, unpleasant. The room hadn't changed from before, the same cracks in the wall, same closed door, same absence of light. Nothing had changed, not yet. But, there was a difference.

Gibbs blinked back to reality, his neck cricking at the angle it had been leaning back, he winced minutely, eyes roaming quickly. _Tony. _

The _lack _of movement against his chest, the dark figure, crumbled against him. Out of fatherly instinct, he attempted to lower his arms, encase the body against his, cocoon him in safety. But he couldn't. His arms were too secured above his head, he just…just couldn't loosen them enough. His chest was damp, sticky. He fought down the gap reflexes.

"Tony? Buddy?" His voice was so close to breaking, cracking. He received no reply, not even a flicker.

"I'm so sorry, son." The murmur was so quiet he barely heard it himself. He wanted, _needed _to comfort his boy. Needed to let him know that dad would get him out, that dad would get him out. His Daddy would keep him safe. Swallowing thickly, Gibbs pressed a kiss to his son's hair resting his cheek on the top of the cold head. His son, the best, most precious thing in his life. Used against him, hurt because of him. He wanted to stroke his hair, take away his pain. _Make it stop. _

"I'm so sorry, bud, I _will _get you out. I will."

Was he saying it for himself or for his child?

……………………………………………………………

Roy looked up, well glared up, when the elevator doors opened. Hipkirk actually swallowed at the dark look in the usual jovial blonde agent's eyes. Howie Grisham had his arms full of files, which he dropped on his desk, shaking his now incredibly weary arms.

"What the hell is this, Grisham?" Roy's voice cut like ice across the room.

"It's the…the stuffed you asked for, sir. The reports and the-."

"And they're on paper, because?"

"Urm…urm?" Howie stuttered, looking like a school child who had just been asked for a piece of homework he hadn't done.

"Get searching then! Since it'll take you as much time as we _don't _have!" Roy slammed a hand down on his desk, knocking the coffee mug Sam and Ian, his sons, had painted for his 35th birthday, falling off the desk and splashing its contents onto the floor. Storming out of the bullpen just as Peter entered. The always much calmer agent looked around the bullpen with a raised eyebrow.

"I-."

"Don't explain, I heard it all. The entire building heard it all, Hipkirk, just get looking…quickly, we need a location, a property, a warehouse, anything." Hipkirk joined the probie agent, picking up half the files to flick through carefully.

"You-." Peter pointed an accusatory finger at Roy in the stairwell. "Need to calm it down." Roy spun on his heel, glaring at his friend.

"Calm it down? I don't see how I can, Pete. We have nothing, _nothing. _I need to see Ducky, see if he's gone over those medical reports. And I am calm." Roy continued down the stairwell until he felt a hand on his wrist, yanking him back.

"You're _not _calm, Royce Cadman. And you need to be. Get your head on and keep it calm. You're the only person here I trust to follow to find them, and you will. If you calm down. Please." Roy stood for a long moment, staring into the honest, caring eyes of his best friend, his old partner. He gave a single nod, clasping a hand to Peter's shoulder.

"Ducky?" Peter questioned quietly.

"Ducky."

But, they didn't need to make the rest of the way down the stairs. Roy's phone bleeped obnoxiously, vibrating violently in his pocket. Out of habit, Roy held up a finger, pulling out his phone and flipping it up.

"Roy Cadman….Yes…Comin' up." He gave his head a jerk, which Peter interpreted perfectly as 'going back'. So, he jogged back up, taking the steps two at a time just as Roy took them three. Long legs.

"What've you got, Hipkirk?" Roy announced, leaning both palms on his senior agent's desk.

"We found a property, first one we looked at actually. It's a shack…well more of a shed, we looked it up on Google Maps. We think it's an old hunting cabin, owned by Richard Pears, left to Ewan Pears. Metro say he's not at home and there's no other registered properties, unless they're at a different location but-."

"Where's the harm in checkin' it out, nice work, Hipkirk." Peter finished the sentence, needlessly checking his gun was in his holster.

"Actually, it was Howie who found it." Hipkirk spoke up. Roy didn't seem to be listening, he was juggling his car keys beside the elevator. Peter jerked his head, signalling with two fingers that brought the two agents after him. Four men to get two others.

…………………………………………………………………….

Black tired crumpled over the bracken and undergrowth which scattered the tire tracked path leading around.

"_White van on visual."_ Came the soft voice of Peter, who had taken Howie scouting around the edge.

"Any more cars?"

"_No, just the van. Anything on the heat signatures?" _A good piece of equipment when scouting out, it was good that Peter was in with the guys in equip. It was pretty hard to get some things out without two and a half feet of paperwork. Ah, guys in Equip owned him a favour anyway.

Roy scanned across the cabin from his position in the passenger seat, the strange contraption balanced in his lap. Colours flickered and swirled, the differences in heat distinct against the winter chill outside. Deep yellows, rich oranges and prominent reds.

"Five figures…three in the front on your side…two on the other side."

"_Can you tell which is which, boss?" _Howie's whisper crackled on the radios.

"Just from size I'd guess the two are Gibbs and Tony, I don't know how they're doing, you in position, Pete?"

"_Almost." _ Roy didn't question more, but Hipkirk cut the engine of the black sedan, sneaking out of the driver's door, using the shining door as protection.

……………………………………………………………………………….

Dark eyes watched Gibbs struggling against the bonds, pulling against the ropes, ignoring the painful friction scoring through his wrists.

"Can I do it now?" Stephanie almost pleaded, holding something tightly in her hands.

"No, you can't." Ewan growled menacingly. "This is my game, Stephy, you keep forgetting this." Ewan paused for a moment, clicking his tongue. "In fact, what have you done since we got here? Anything? I don't think so, no. Just got in the way."

Richard Pears' son, the son of a drug baron supplying to the armed forces, had his back to Stephanie Gibbs, one hand caressing a cold, metal object on the table. He turned with a smirk.

Behind the cold metal door, still twisting his wrist in the slowly loosening knots, Gibbs heard the scream.

What was the smell? Oh God, no.

With a supreme effort, Gibbs tore his wrist free from its roped bonds.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Roy opened his mouth to speak when an explosion rent the quiet evening. Black smoke blossomed and tall fingers of flame grasped at the grey skies above.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

**Tardy but finally here. I blame exams, of which I happen to have far too many of. Still, I'm tasking around, going in order, oddly enough. I'll try and have a quick fix up soon, but I am very apologetic that I can't promise anything, I know, we all hate exams. But, I do love the reviewers, they make it all worth it. I should slap in a disclaimer that I own no canon characters and just the ones I've randomly made up in the course of this. And there we go! Thanks for sticking around this long!**

**Eryn**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: You Gave Me The Reason Why**

_When I thought that I fought this war alone  
You were there by my side on the frontline  
When I thought that I fought without a cause  
You gave me a reason to try_

The concussive force of the fireballed explosion sent Peter and Howie to their knees, arms covering their heads from the shooting debris. Raising an arm, Peter's head shot around, his dark eyes staring across the short distance of forest towards the burning building. A huge gaping hole in the roof was bellowing flames to the sky, black smoke billowing like a mocking cloak. The heat was already wavering across the distance, heat waves masking the imagine in front of him.

"_Peter! Dalrym come in!" A voice was shouting in his ear, snapping him back to attention._

"We're here, instruction?"

"_Go in, round the back, that whole things gone up, get in there quick!" _The voice cut out and with the recklessness which Peter had seen Roy rarely partake in, the temporary team leader dodged out from behind the car door, streaking across the forested floor towards the house, Hipkirk only inches behind, covering him.

"C'mon." Peter hissed, breaking his own cover to speed round the back, holding up an arm against the blaze. Howie hesitated for a moment, the flames dancing in his terrified eyes. First year out of FLETC and burning hunting cabins?

He didn't have long to be terrified though, as Peter had taken a leaf from Roy's book and, with his jacket over his head – providing about as much protection as a water gun against a forest fire – he ploughed into back door, his shoulder making quick work of the flimsy, weakened-by-age door.

"Gibbs?" His voice yelled above the crackling of the persistent flames, licking at the doors, the smoke blurring his vision. "Gibbs!" He tried again, feeling Howie's presence behind him. He jerked an arm to his right, sending the newbie agent stumbling in that general direction.

Roy was having slightly more luck. He'd dragged the tall Agent Hipkirk with him to the cabin's front entrance, not bothering to give a formal entrance, not bothering to wait the ten seconds before kicking in the door. No, there was no need for that. Hipkirk plunged the door open, his gun aiming for whatever they could find. A shotgun was raised in the young agent's direction, but three rounds from Roy's SIG and Johnny collapsed backwards with a resounding thump, taking the coffee table with him. Ewan was the last to go down, the insane grin plastered across his face as he brought the pistol forwards.

Eight bullets in his torso. Aorta, left lung, heart, right lung, rib, rib, lung, throat. A merciful death compared to what would've been in store for him had he lived.

A crackling in Roy's ear came into focus, the adrenaline wearing off slowly.

"Peter, three downs, got Gibbs? Peter…Peter!" The door beyond crunched with an ominous creak, the darker wood above cracking under the strain of failing foundations.

"Gibbs!" Peter yelled, this time in vague relief as his bleary, smoke-filled eyes, caught on the figure, pushing itself up from the wreckage.

"Boss." Peter knelt down beside his wounded superior, grabbing his arm, his mind not really working on injury control but 'get out of burning cabin- control.

"Grisham, get over here!" His voice was a screech above the same screech of abused and burning timber. Howie appeared in a second, coughing slightly as the thick smoke swirled and cascaded around him.

"Tony." Gibbs voice was quiet, hoarse. "Where's Tony?" Peter hauled the agent upwards, letting Howie drape an arm around him, trying to drag him to the exit. The agent's mind was awash with muddled images. Time and space not correlating in a linear fashion. Which way was up? Where was Tony? Why was he moving whilst his feet where hardly moving.

"Grisham, get him outta here, I'll find Tony!" Peter's voice was quickly turning hoarse as well, the smoke forcing its way down his throat. Howie glanced back, about to argue, but Peter gave him a violent shove towards the ruined door, brooking no argument. Howie dragged on, coughing severely, Gibbs doing the same as they stumbled out into the winter mist.

Howie's knees gave way just in time for Hipkirk to catch Gibbs enough to keep the senior agent upright. But, that didn't stop his memory returning, the images flashing.

_The smell of gasoline, that was what it was, all he could smell, invading his mind. No, cruelty to a next level, impossible. Why?_

_The ropes fraying against his wrists loosened, they were no match for a desperate marine. No match for a desperate father. The rope had frayed and snapped just wet ground, the gasoline, had snuck under the door, seeping through the cracks in the cold flooring. With reluctance, so much reluctance, Gibbs pulled the limp and unresponsive figure of his son out of the protective curl. Pain he didn't want to imagine, there was only so much the consciousness could endure. _

_The flames erupted, small and low at first, just a crackling under the door. With a kick, Gibbs brought the filthy bed up on its side, a protective force against the gasoline fuelled flame. But, it did nothing for the explosion. The single flame became a fireball, ripping through the room and the ceiling, smoke waterfalling down on them, all directions blocked. The force ripped his son from his arms, piled the bed against the wall and left nothing – not even pain – to the imagination._

"Tony!" It was a primal yell of fear as Gibbs wrenched against the arms around him.

"Boss. No!" A voice was shouting from far away, arms wrapped around his chest, yanking him away from the building. Blind fighting, it was all Gibbs could think of. Blind fighting to get back into that house, get back into that building and free his son, to get him help.

"Tony! _Tony!_"

"Hipkirk, hold him, call 911!" Was that Roy's voice? No, couldn't be.

"Tony!"

"Howie, Howie, breath kid, that's right. Now, grab his arm, he's gunna do himself some damage. Gibbs! Stop. Fighting. Us! Peter's got him, Dalrym's got him!" _I bloody hope he's got him, _Roy's thoughts were very nearly broadcast aloud. But, even the words didn't still the struggling agent, pulling against the three restraining agents, crying the name as his voice progressively failed, blue eyes streaked with pain, fear, loss.

Peter. The wind whipped up the smoke into a cloud above the house, revealing the doorway into the burning chasm. Peter was there. A dark silhouette against the fire, oddly shaped, but distinctive. An agent carrying a boy. Gibbs sagged with relief, but only for a moment, he was still pulling weakly against Hipkirk and Grisham as Roy sprinted forward to aid.

Peter's face was streaked with dirt, but that wasn't the worrying thing. The fire belched a solid flame through the tattered roof, sparks dancing up in an eerie shower…as the roof fell in.

"Peter!" Roy's voice was a terrified scream as the cabin sagged, the foundations crumbling. Peter's dark eyes spun around, his mind acting quickly. With a humongous effort, the agent hefted the limp body and threw the figure in front of him just as the entire cabin collapsed onto the forest floor, the smoke engulfing both agent and teenager in a glistening cloud of danger.

"_PETER_!"

"_TONY_!"

_When I thought that I fought this war alone,  
You were there by my side on the frontline,  
And we fought to believe the impossible _

_When I thought that I fought this war alone  
We were one with our destinies entwined  
When I thought that I fought without a cause  
You gave me the reason why_

_-Poets of the Fall_

…

**What happened? What happened after, what happened in there, who knows, whoever does? We'll all see. Short one this time, just a filler effect I suppose I'd call it. Now, I have lost and rewritten this chapter three times in the past week, which is frustrating I can tell you, so forgive me since I may have to change this as it annoys me. But, still, the story's the same the writing may just be a hell of a lot better. Thanks for the patience, it means a lot.**

**Eryn [Soul Music]**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: The Song Is Ending, but the Melody Lingers On**

It doesn't matter who it is. Whether it's a boyfriend, girlfriend or a fiancée. An aunt, an uncle. Whether it's a sister, a brother, if it's a husband or a wife. It doesn't even matter if it's a mother or a father, a daughter or a son. It doesn't matter if it's a friend, your best friend, your closest ally and your confident.

It never matters who it is, but will always hurt to loose someone.

The wind flicked the snow in a fine white mist of twisting light; echoing as a song around the quiet headstones

He should've gone back into the fire…because it was his boy. His little boy, just his little boy. The child who should have been running up the driveway as fast as he could, bag dragging behind him.

"_Dad! Dad!" The excited yell had Gibbs yanking the door open even before the young fourteen year old Anthony Jackson Gibbs had reached for his house key._

"_What?" Gibbs stepped back to let his son dump his school bag just inside the door and stand excitedly bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet, ignoring the fact the laces on his converses were trailing. "Speak Tony, before you explode." _

"_Only if you guess."_

"_I'm not guessing, tell me."_

"_I'm not telling you, guess it!"_

"_Tell."_

"_Guess!"_

"_No."_

"_Then no story, where's Puppy?" Tony switched subjects like a fire crack, looking around the corridor for the mixed up mutt they still hadn't given a name to even if the dog was almost ten months old._

"_In the garden. What homework d'you have?"_

"_Why do you always assume I have homework? I might have none!"_

"_You always have homework. No playing with Dog until it's done. Especially if it's algebra."_

"_Aw! C'mon Dad, it's not like I'm gunna be using that in real life, even asked Mrs. Clarkenson where we'd use 12x + 49 = 253 and she just shrugged."_

"_Go do your algebra."_

"_Ah, but I didn't say I actually had any, did I!"_

_Gibbs just smiled. Tony's expression fell into a pout. "Fine, but I want you to know it's child abuse to make me do algebra!" He stalked off towards the stairs, bag dragging behind him on the wooden flooring. Gibbs smiled wider._

_"You gunna tell me?" He called after his son._

_"No, you made me do algebra." He heard the annoyed grumble making its way into the kitchen._

_"Okay, shall I guess?" Tony's head whipped around, a grin fully plastered._

_"No, don't guess, I'll tell you. I made the team!"_

_"The team? You made the team?" Gibbs blinked._

_"Yeah! I made the team, Dad! Third youngest _ever. _Ever! Coach said I could make Captain before Junior year." Gibbs couldn't contain his smile as he strode forward, enveloping his still growing boy into a bear hug.__  
_

Now standing between the quiet gravestones. Thick winter coat wrapped tightly, the wind playing through the tails. Gibbs stood, the frozen earth hard and unyielding.

"_See I can cook!" Fifteen year old Tony explained smugly, setting the large pot on the heat mat of the table._

"_Never doubted you for a moment." Gibbs smiled ruefully, leaning back in his chair._

"_Yeah?" Tony was hardly convinced. "Then why were you following me round the kitchen? Worried I'd set something alight?" Tony pouted, pulling off the oven gloves and tossing them onto the side counter, pulling out his own chair._

"_If I thought you'd set something on fire I'd be following you round with a fire extinguisher." Gibbs replied matter-of-factly, reaching to take the pot lid off, steam wafted off the top, drifting up towards the ceiling._

"_Well…if you're not convinced that my culinary skills out skill you, take a bite." The slightly troublesome, but no less lovable for a tolerant father such as Gibbs, teenager crossed his arms._

"_Can't do that." Gibbs replied mimicking his son._

"_And why's that, are you afraid it's gunna kill ya?"_

"_Nope, just s'not polite." _

"_Polite?" Tony frowned._

"_Yeah, gotta wait for the guests." As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Tony blinked._

"_Guests? Guests! Dad, who did you invite, I'm not sitting through another 'polite' dinner with Miss Here-This-Week-Run-Outta-Here-Screaming-The-Next." The boy grumped quietly, slouching in his chair. Gibbs smirked, pushing himself up from the table. The door had started to stay unlocked in the past couple of months, only being truly bolted during the night long after the youngest Gibbs had crashed onto his bed. _

"_Good evening, Jethro." A jovial and thoroughly recognised voice spoke up, brightening Tony up to no end. _

"_Ducky!" He exclaimed, his exuberance almost knocking back his chair as he bounded towards the door. _

"_I heard you cooked tonight, is it a good thing I'm a doctor?" The Medical Examiner smiled warmly at the boy, taking off his coat and hanging it on the familiar coat pegs._

"_You're just as _hilarious _as Dad." Tony griped, stalking back towards his chair. The Pathologist just smiled, catching Gibbs own fond expression._

"_Hasn't changed a great deal, has he." Ducky commented slyly, following the expressive boy back towards the table._

"_Not a bit," Gibbs announced proudly. _

Raising the gaze from the frozen ground, he met the eyes of the Medical Examiner, standing solemnly across from him, weary and mourning. Gibbs lowered his eyes once more.

"_Dad! You're supposed to throw it, not sling-shot it!" Sixteen year old Tony yelled as he sprinted after a long throw, scooping up the football from the damp grass._

"_Should run faster, kid!" Gibbs yelled back, easily catching the arching ball which Tony had just thrown seamlessly across the distance between them. An animated bark caught Tony's attention. Diefenbaker, now finally named after almost a year of being 'Puppy', bounded back from the undergrowth beside the green grassed park, dragging what seemed to be most of a tree behind him. _

"_Well, it's sort of like fetch!" Tony laughed as the dog deposited the log in front of him, tail waving backwards and forwards without any seeming point or thought in his fuzzy head._

"_Yeah, 'cept you threw him a tennis ball and he comes back with an elm tree." Gibbs tossed the ball between his hands, spinning it up through the summer's air. _

"_Hey! Tony!" A voice made both the Gibbs' look up towards the late afternoon sunlight where a shadow was quickly becoming clearer and clearer as Jacob Russet, Tony's high school friend and companion footballer. _

"_Hey Jake, what you doin' out here?" Tony straightened up from where he'd been fussing over his dog, grinning widely at his friend._

"_Oh, you know, taking a run, checkin' out the girls, 'bout to butt in on your game. That sorta thing." The tall boy, slightly taller and bulkier than Tony, shrugged, coming to a stop on the grass. He wasn't one for subtlety was Jake. _

"_I'll leave you guys to it." Gibbs smiled, tossing the ball over towards the two boys, his grin widening as they both grappled in the air for it, Diefenbaker yapping excitedly at their feet._

"_You sure, Dad?" Tony finally managed to snatch the football from the air, lunging for it and almost tripping up had it not been for his hand catching him on the grass. Gibbs just nodded._

"_Want you home by eight."_

"_Aw, Da-ad! You let me stay out and then give me a curfew." Tony whined, blinking his big puppy-dog eyes._

"_It's not a curfew, it's dinner, you get any thinner and you'll be mistaken for one of the cheerleaders." Gibbs shot back, grinning as he turned his back, clicking for Diefenbaker. It usually worked on the third or fourth attempt. This time it was only the third before the canine came dragging his log behind him, skittering behind Gibbs with his eyes shining. His mouth quirked at the edges as his sharp hearing picked up words he probably wasn't supposed to hear._

"_Tones, you complain way too much, man!" Jake's voice was probably supposed to be quiet. "My dad makes sure I'm threw the door at six thirty or I'm serious toast! Your dad's not bad, man."_

"_You don't need to tell me, Jake-y…now c'mon I only got 'til eight!"_

The soft shuffle at feet and the voice of the priest. Neither were comforting whilst one was trying to be. The day was dark, mimicking the mood. Soft flakes drifted around the coffin, brushing over the framed photograph and elegant spring flowers, their beauty lost in the moment, now balanced on the wooden lid, nailed shut.

"_Keep it steady, follow just ahead." Gibbs soft voice coached in his seventeen year old son's ear. Green eyes creased with concentration, moving only slightly before pulling his index figure back. A few hundred yards away a clay pigeon shattered against the morning skyline._

"_Yes!" Tony cheered himself, dropping the gun from his shoulder with a grin splitting his tanned face. _

"_Not bad." Gibbs' voice held his own bright pride as he smiled just as proudly over his only son._

"_Not bad? That was brilliant!" Tony had never been one for too much modesty. _

"_Ah…I wouldn't go that far, still can't hit three in a row." Gibbs shrugged playfully, leaning his arm against the post beside him. Tony glared at him. _

"_That's just 'cause I get bored, they take like five minutes in between them." He griped good-naturedly, emptying out the weapon and replacing the live ammo, adjusting his shooting glasses with his eyebrows._

"_Oh, you want them quicker? Think you can handle it?"_

"_Pst, I could handle it blindfolded, I could beat you." Hmn…not a great idea. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, not moving from his leaning post but just shifting his expression._

"_C'mon, you scared?" Tony taunted un-necessarily, grinning widely. Gibbs smirked, pressing a button on the consol behind him, upping the levelling. He watched Tony, never taking his eyes off his son as he brought his gun up. The traditional 'phut, phut, phut' noise of the clay pigeon being release. Gibbs eyes never left Tony, the clay plate sped across the skyline._

_In a flash Gibbs brought the weapon around, squeezing the trigger. Three times. With a clatter of broken clay the three clay plates exploded in an impressive firework shower. Gibbs smirk was beyond smug as Tony just stared at him, but the smirk turned into a grin as Tony's expression changed to a glare._

"_Doesn't count, you were a sniper."_

"_Whatever makes you feel better, kid."_

Gibbs hadn't slept for days. Couldn't remember the last _good_ night he'd had, or even half a night. Catching a few hours here and there, chairs, corners, desks. The smiling photograph conjured up so many memories, but there was just one which stood out, but he couldn't think of that now. No, not the fire now. Anything else.

_Gibbs grasped the dishtowel, drying his hands, tossing it over the drying cutlery and tableware on the drying rack. For the last few minutes there had been the non-stop clatter and putter from upstairs; drawers opening, closing, the wardrobe door which always creaked, the bathroom cabinet which clicked loudly whenever it closed. But, that all seemed to have stopped in the last minute. _

_Making his way from the kitchen, Gibbs wasn't surprised to not see the frisky dog curled up in his basket by the fireplace, the flames flickering gently, almost fading in the dark living room; shedding shimmering sparks across the far wall._

_Tony's room had a door which refused to shut, it stuck on the carpet leaving a good six inches of space. But, unusually, no music was playing, the radio wasn't burbling on, not even Tony's voice on the phone or strumming against the old batter guitar which was held together with duct tape and willpower. _

_Gibbs pushed the door open lightly, leaning against the doorframe. Tony's bed sheets were folded and packed away into one of the two suitcases which lay across the floor, ready for someone to trip over. The mattress was bare except for the stretched out pooch and the eighteen year old leaning against the headboard, stroking the dog's back. Absentmindedly, Gibbs stepped forward, folding one of the shirts his son had just thrown haphazardly into the bigger suitcase._

"_Almost done?" He asked, glancing up at the boy he could still remember as a lanky fourteen year old bouncing on an office chair. Tony nodded mutely, continuing to stroke Diefenbaker's soft back as the dog sprawled across the bare mattress._

"_What's left?"_

"_As in 'what's left from packing up your life and taking to Ohio'?" Tony grinned, sliding off the bed, earning a disgruntled gruff from the pooch. Gibbs nodded. _

_Reaching up towards his chest of drawers, Tony grabbed the photograph in its light wooden frame which had taken residence on his chest of drawers for the past five years. The photograph was candid, a snapshot Kodak moment taken inside the NCIS bullpen with Tony sitting on the floor with the crime scene photographs of a finished case burglary from years before spread all around him. Roy was crouched down in front of the fifteen year old (at the time fifteen anyway) looking around to Peter who had just given a comment, grinning equally as loudly as Roy. Gibbs hadn't even realised he'd been in it until the flash had gone off, covering him in light. He'd been standing on the first landing of the stairs, surveying the bullpen with a smile as his agents fought around a cold case. _

_Pacci had taken the photograph, left it on Gibbs' desk the next morning with a post-it note stuck on. Tony had kept it as one of the centre-pieces of his room ever since, Gibbs also had a copy in his top drawer. _

"_Hey, Dad?" Tony said after a moment, zipping up one of the suitcases he'd ship up to Ohio the next morning for his new four years of University._

"_Hmn?" Gibbs turned calmly, watching Tony fidget with his hair in the mirror for a moment. That should've been a candid photograph._

"_Wanna watch a movie?" He turned with smiling green eyes, Gibbs grinned._

"_Sure, son."_

_The clock had ticked long past midnight when Gibbs looked down at Tony. The den was quiet, just the quiet hum of the television, the very low crackling of the fire which had been blazing only hours before during the film. Tony had fallen asleep somewhere between the first car chase and the second, his head resting against Gibbs shoulder as he legs draped over the end of the couch. Whether consciously or not, Gibbs slid an arm around his son's shoulders, covering him with the afghan which adorned the back of the sofa. Diefenbaker snuffled in his sleep by the fire, curled up warmly in his basket. _

_Leaning his head back against the back of the sofa, Gibbs kicked off his shoes, resting them on the coffee table in front of him, closing his own eyes, a smile permanently lined across his lips. _

_They definitely had it right for once. Heaven really was a place on Earth._

So many memories. The cold bit through, a constant reminder of the pain and the terror of that day.

A new voice. Not the priest's, a different voice entirely.

"It didn't matter to him who it was. But that was just what he was, my best friend, my closest ally and the one I trusted so much. With my life, with my friends and family, with my hope. I would've trusted him, and I did trust him beyond what I can say here. He saved my life, in more ways than one.

He was my closest friend. And I am not ashamed, but I am proud to say I loved him, he was my family. Maybe not biologically, but when did that matter?

I have lost a lot in this world before, but through him I gained so much, so much life. I can't say how much, I can't put it into a list. I can't put his love, his courage, his _life _into a list. He pulled me from a dark hole of self-pity and pain. There was something more in this life, something more that he could show me. And he did. I remember when I first met him, feels so long ago. He understood me, and I him. It never had to be said, and it never was. Sometimes I wish I had said it, every day I wish I'd told him."

Tears fell unguarded, glistening on his cheek before they fell. "He saved my life, but not just mine. He helped me find my family, I never needed anything else and I never thanked him, but he never wanted to be thanked. That was just who he was, made him who he was."

Beside Gibbs Tony stood, silent tears shining against the dark curves of his eyelashes. So vividly he could see it all, remember it all.

Roy took a shuddering breath, composing himself as Annie squeezed his hand.

"Peter Dalrym was my best friend and he died to protect me."

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**I'm not sure. I never was about this chapter, we'll see. I hope you like it, and thank-you to all the reviews, thanks very much indeed.**

**Eryn [Soul Music]**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: Can You See Beyond Emotion**

_In part from a feeling that they did not do enough to save the others who perished and in part from feelings of being unworthy relative to those who died._

Dark rainclouds threatened war on the horizon, the silver slivers of rain battering against the windshield, even as the wipers futilely attempted to flick them aside. Another grey, miserable day, clouded with emotion and lingering with whatever could be found. And that wasn't much, there wasn't much to find in the minds of men for the past week. The same thought, the same _person _on the mind and there was nothing that could quelch that thought into the background. It would never leave, and he knew it would never leave. Everything he passed the desk, every time he caught Roy's eye, but it would pass right? It would always feel this way. He knew how it felt to loose, loose out with life and the game. He'd never stopped feeling sorry, sad, the pain clenching in his heart, but it had faded over time. Had that only been because of Tony? He'd arrived in his life, a life full of laughter, beauty and joy; helped with the pain and the sorrow.

The engine had stopped minutes ago, quiet and cold now under the torrent of rain. The house, standing in front of him, usually a place he couldn't wait to get inside to, the snuffling of the faithful canine at his feet, begging for food, the bright smile of unconditional love. Now could he face it again? Every time he looked at those bright green eyes he didn't see the joy that had been imprinted on his mind from the time he'd first seen one of Tony's football games. No, he didn't see that any more. Now, he saw the pain and the fear which had dulled the emeralds to murky glass. No shine any more, just a sheer, unadulterated terror; agony coursing every movement.

How could he face him after what he'd done, or more precisely hadn't done? Shock had set in at the hospital. The room in Recovery, a figure lying in the pale beds, bandages wrapping his torso, left arm in a full cast, right arm wrapped from the Burn Ward. The fever colouring the too pale cheeks with high dashes of scarlet; dripped up, wired up, beeped up. There he'd lost composure, caught by the attending doctor, leant against an opposite bed. Ducky had been called in, of course. Mark Runyon had brought himself up on the case and refused to leave. It was a likely thought that all would've been completed and the shock would've worn off if Nurse Natasha Dalrym hadn't swooped in, tears streaking down her face.

Roy had been the first to her side, catching her before she could thump straight into Gibbs, balled fists flying. She'd howled, beating her hand into Roy's shoulder as he held her tight, his own tears unable to stay put, snaking down his cheeks. The shock had affected them all. Natasha had collapsed in a heap, Roy carrying her out, leaving her in a nurse's care, and he'd left. His own sense of shock and grieving leading him to silence and staring at the blank wall against the second floor stairwell. There he let the tears fall, seated at the bottom of the wall, he hadn't even taken off his singed jacket.

Right now, what was there he could do? If anything he couldn't sit here all night, even if it seemed the only viable option. The car's heat had left, leeching out of the frame towards the miserable evening sky. Raising his head from where it had rested against the steering wheel, he let out a deep, long held in breath, staring up at the dark windows of the house.

The rain crumpled against his head and shoulders, soaking the coat in moments, the walk from the dark door to the house seeming to take months. The door had been locked securely when he left and it hadn't been touched in the hours since so his worn, old metal key was the only entrance into the dark corridor.

There was no bark even though Diefenbaker had been back in the house for two weeks. There was no quiet snuffle from the living room or a creak of the tell-tale floorboard on the upstairs landing which you had to step on wherever you were going. The house was still, the lights off and dark. Gibbs flicked on the living room light, giving an involuntary shiver at the cold which had penetrated the entire house without the constant fire which Tony usually insisted on keeping pepped up to full. It was just a surprisingly cold house.

Did he want to check up stairs? Did he want to know what he'd find by pushing open the wooden doors to each bedroom? No, he needed to; it wasn't a question of 'want' or 'don't want' he needed to right here. But, what if he couldn't face what was happening? Both he and Tony had lost so much, he didn't know who had lost more, but it wasn't a contest. It was the same loss, but who had it struck more? Tony. Tony had come out worse; of course he had! What was he doing with self-pity right now.

Mustering out the confidence and the will-power, Gibbs discarded his jacket, not bothering to put it on a hanger in the airing cabinet, just left it over the end of the sofa. The stairs were a daunting task, but he took them; a single step at a time, the carpet against his wet shoes. Still there was darkness in the house, the landing on the second floor had just a single sliver of dim orange, but it was hardly enough to illuminate anything. It just caused shadows, shedding the dark pictures on the walls.

Gibbs leant his head against the door frame, the imagine springing unbidden tears to his blue eyes. This shouldn't be like this; _he _should've stopped this happening. Swallowing down his emotions, Gibbs stepped into the softly lit room, the bedside lamp which Gibbs could remember Tony ready to when he was younger was casting an eerie orange glow across the entire room.

But, it wasn't Tony's room, it was his room. His room with the folded back, warm blankets and the bedside light he'd always had to turn off as the only way to push his son out to bed. The bedcovers remained untouched, but one of the pillows was bundled up in his son's arms, his head pressed against the soft pillowcase. And his son, his pride and joy, curled up on the covers, his chest rising and falling as steadily as only Gibbs had seen when he was sedated, head buried in the pillow. His torso was bare except for the bandages which were changed each day by one of the two doctors Gibbs trusted, and usually only one. It had taken all of Mark Runyon's will power not to back away yelling for help when Gibbs had turned the glare on him. But, that wasn't the point. The point was Tony.

Gibbs settled himself on the edge of the mattress, his eyes falling on Diefenbaker, who was snuggled next to his son, fluffy head resting on his thigh whilst Tony's casted arm was lying across the dog's soft side. Gibbs had even realised his hand was shaking until he reached out to stroke back his son's unruly hair, his long fingers tender against the bruised jaw when he rested his hand against Tony's cheek.

The boy stirred underneath his touch, his eyes blinking blearily for a moment, yet refusing to focus on the figure, just concentrating on the comforting, warm touch.

"Hey there." Gibbs voice was smooth despite his emotional chaos, love over-riding guilt, concern over-riding fear. Tony didn't answer; just lay still for a moment, eyes blinking rapidly back the course of disobedient tears.

"Hey, hey, c'mon kiddo. Tell me what it is." Gibbs muttered, his thumb brushing away the damp streak, but it didn't seem to quell the downpour. Head once against buried in the soft pillow, Gibbs didn't hear the murmured response.

"Hmn?"

Tony shifted his head away, eyes still tightly shut.

"It should've been me," The sentiment put Gibbs back, his hand faltering on Tony's cheek, staying in the same place even when the boy pulled back, away from the touch.

"It should've been me," Tony murmured again, the tears unbidden and flowing freely down his cheeks. Gibbs swallowed thickly, his blue eyes staring blankly.

"Don't say that, don't you say that." His voice sounded rough and worn, shadowed as the room.

"Why, it's true." Tony pushed himself up with his right hand, ignoring the twinge of the healing burns across his forearm. He turned hurt, flashing green eyes across to Gibbs, who met the eyes with difficulty. "It's true."

"No, no. No!" Gibbs reached across, turning his body around and grasping his son's face gently between his hands. "It's not true, Tony. It'll never be true, never say it should've been you." His voice exuded sincerity, flashing the valuable substance around the room.

"Then why do you blame me?"

"What?" Gibbs was dumbstruck, stroking a thumb across Tony's battered cheek. "Blame? How could I blame you, Tony?" Confusion coloured his concern.

"This wasn't anything to do with P-Peter." Tony started, refusing to let his gaze meet the soft blue sincerity. "He wasn't meant to be there, w-wasn't meant to be there!" The words came in stuttered gasps of jumbled reason. "Wasn't anything to do with him and he died because…because of me." Tears ran over Gibbs fingers as he held his son's head, running a hand over the soft hair as the boy collapsed into a heap on the bed, Diefenbaker squirming out the way. Gibbs swung a leg onto the bed, gathering Tony up against his chest, ignoring the soft protests and weak pushes he got against his shoulder.

"Peter did his job, Tony. And he did it damn well. He dedicated himself to saving people, and that includes you, son. There would've been nothing to stop him savin' you, not even his life." _Not even my life. God, Peter loved you Tony. _He couldn't bring himself to say it, but both Roy and Peter, even Annie; they loved the kid like their own. Roy and Annie might have children of their own, but they'd never hesitate to take Tony in. Peter, he was the cool uncle type, loved Tony like a nephew, treated him like one. They hadn't just been 'Gibbs team'; they'd been Gibbs friends, Tony's friends. Tony finally turned his face into Gibbs chest, fisting his right hand into the soft fabric of his jacket, tears no longer sliding down his cheeks, just trying to leech up the warmth and comfort.

Gibbs tucked his son safely against him, leaning back against the backboard whilst Dief settled himself to curling up with his head resting on Gibbs outstretched knee.

"Tony, forgive yourself, it _wasn't your fault. _You know that, don't feel guilty, he wanted to save you and he did. I bet he's sitting smugly right now thinking of a job well done. He'd never regret it, you know he wouldn't, don't do this to yourself." He didn't know if his tone was pleading or comforting, but he felt the tensed muscles in Tony's back relax under the soft circles he was stroking through his shirt.

The hitched breathing which had assaulted Tony throughout his recovery were fading off as exhaustion took the boy. Greif, guilt and misery had taken their toll, leaving him bereft of energy and for the first time in over a fortnight, safety had taken over the feelings. Warmth and safety mixed in together as he rested his head against the strong heartbeat, love. Gibbs didn't move as he felt the breathing even out, the body relax in his arms; _safe _in his arms, cuddled against him, a memory of years before.

Careful not to disturb the figure against him, Gibbs reached over to pull up the cover blanket to wrap around his son, just to keep him warm and comfortable as possible. It did disturb Diefenbaker, but being as docile as he was, he just flopped back down onto the sheet beneath, still snuggled up against his owners.

The murky evening turned into a murky night with the digital clock on Gibbs bedside table setting a soft blue glow over the carpet. Seven o'clock left way for eight o'clock and the soft click of the front door which Gibbs had been expecting. Always punctual. Diefenbaker leapt nimbly off the bed to investigate this new comer, his paws padding silently along the carpet. Gibbs had given Ducky his own key just to make things easier since he'd taken to locking the door again, bolting it as well, he'd contemplated putting something in front of the front door, or training up a guard dog since Diefenbaker wasn't exactly a perfect choice, he'd just drown the intruders in drool.

The NCIS M.E. knew better than to call out for attention, knowing that the occupants of this house would be perfectly aware if he was inside it. Following the direction the Gibbs family dog had appeared from, Doctor Mallard made his calm way upstairs.

The faint light from the light and the digital clock was enough to tell the doctor where to head, the sight making him falter at the door for a moment. Tony was still wrapped up snugly with the bed's cover blanket, tucked safely under Gibbs' chin, with Gibbs resting a cheek on Tony's smoothed down hair, one hand absently stroking his back through the blanket, the other on his hair, blue eyes closed. It was such a peaceful sight. Such a contrast to the past few days, one could say weeks if you counted the tensions that had already been running between Gibbs and…that woman.

He didn't want to disturb, so stayed back in the doorway, it wasn't like Gibbs would be getting a surprise, and he knew exactly where everything and everyone was in his house right now, even the dog. With a lasting deep breath Gibbs slowly opened his eyes, looking over at the door, raising his head from its previous position. No words were exchanged between the two old friends, but the silence spoke enough to let Doctor Mallard move away from the doorframe back towards the stairs and the kitchen.

Gibbs slid himself out from underneath the softly slumbering boy, laying his head gently against the pillow and tucking the blanket around his shoulders. Leaning down he pressed a soft kiss to his son's temple, brushing back the hair he'd smoothed down before. It was a _I'm still here, you're not alone _touch they both needed. With a fleeting glance back at the door, Gibbs made his way after Ducky towards the kitchen.

The doctor had already turned on the two lights which lit the main kitchen and the island, pulling various mugs down from the wooden shelves and flicking the ever ready coffee machine into action.

"How is he?" Ducky asked, taking a seat on one of the comfortable kitchen chairs, taking in Gibbs' appearance. Gibbs didn't immediately answer, but ran a hand down his tired face.

"Better." Came the one worded reply with a nod of reassurance – reassurance for whom? "I didn't want to wake him, his bandages are fine."

"I'm sure they are, Jethro, I don't just come here to look over the medical side of things." The cultured response gave Gibbs a soft smile as the coffee machine bleeped softly, the green light flashing, almost smugly about finishing its task.

Gibbs automatically poured two cups, letting Ducky take his as he chose, lowering himself to the kitchen island chairs, and Ducky knew where everything was. Even if he didn't, it wouldn't be hard to locate the refrigerator, even if it was covered in miscellaneous scraps of paper; grade sheets with elegant red stamped 'A's, letters written from Tony back home in his almost illegible scrawl which Gibbs had learnt to decipher, a calendar. All rudimentary things.

"And how are you doing?"

"Me, I'm fine." Monotonous.

"Really? Jethro, you lost a man, you've been through quit an ordeal, have you even considered talking to someone about it?"

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"Jethro." The tone held a warning.

"Don't, Ducky. We'll get through it." Gibbs looked up at the doctor's rather unbelieving expression, but decided to ignore it, just let the scolding coffee run down his throat. He heard Ducky sigh deeply, taking his own mug off the counter to drink.

Diefenbaker chose that moment to potter in, his head bumping affectionately against Gibbs leg, one paw pathetically padding at his foot. He wasn't sure when the dog had been taught to beg, but with those huge brown eyes he was rarely forbidden anything he begged for. So, he did the natural thing. He fed the dog.

Gibbs couldn't understand why such a normal act felt so out of place. Feeding the family pet and having coffee with a family friend. It was such a natural action, yet it felt odd, disconnected.

"I did the right thing, didn't I Ducky?" He murmured, glancing towards the stairs. "I took him in, gave him a life but…this? God, Ducky, he's been through so much and now even more. I did right to adopt him?" Gibbs swallowed, staring into the depths of his black mug.

"Jethro. Jethro, look at me." Ducky's voice held a command Gibbs couldn't refuse. "Of course you did right. This event will never destroy the love you have for that boy or that he has for you. You are his father, Jethro. It may not say so on his birth certificate, you may not look like him but you are his father. Biologically you could never say you would not take him, _you _could never do that. You won't do so now, you know you couldn't do anything. He may be old enough to look after himself, move out, attend university, live alone and survive alone, but he will never stop depending on him. And Jethro, you – even you – will never stop depending on him. This is not something to tear you apart, this is to bring you closer together, never let yourself or Tony forget that."

Gibbs swallowed thickly, his jaw clenched. It was true, of course it was true, and he'd just needed to be told it. He'd _known _it. He could never abandon his son, it may have only been five years but that was no difference, it felt like nineteen years. Nineteen years he'd seen the boy grow, his love blossom and his pride extend what he felt possible. He was an amazing child, and amazing man and there was no way anyone could take that away from him. This? A set back? Not even that, it was a speed bump, but they'd work through it. Gibbs himself knew he would do anything and everything in his power to make this easier for Tony. He'd be there any time, any day, any hour. Never more than a phone call away.

He'd never abandon his son.

"I need to see him." Gibbs voice was slightly hoarse as he pushed up from the table, making it up to the second floor landing even before Ducky had put his mug into the sink. A slight smile curved the side of the doctor's mouth, his calm exterior now reflecting much more of the internal emotions rather than the plunging concern that had been dancing before.

Picking his coat from the hanger, Doctor Mallard shut the door softly behind him.

Minutes passed. In the kitchen, Diefenbaker looked up from his empty bowl, his tongue lapping at his canines. Big brown eyes roamed the now dark room, his tail waving amiable as he padding up the stairs where he wasn't usually allowed, along the corridor he hardly ever passed and, pushing the door open with his fluffy head, surveyed the room. The bedside lamp was still on, but the stuffed armchair in the corner had been pulled up towards the bed. Gibbs sat against the bed, one hand resting on Tony's side. His other arm was lying flat across the mattress, his head resting on his forearm, eyes closed shut against the battle of sleep. One of Tony's hands had found its way out from underneath the blanket and was encircled in his father's sleeve, long fingers holding on gently in his sleep.

With a soft gruff, Diefenbaker leapt lightly onto the bed, curling up against Tony's legs, the warmth of absolution better than any blanket made.

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**It's always interesting how things turn out. And whilst this is finished, who knows where the road leads next.**

**Another thing, my story **_**Reach Out For The Sweet Dream **_**seems to have fallen completely off the grid. Literally, for some reason it just can't be accessed any more and apparently exists not. I have no idea why I'm afraid, it's just gone. Frustrating I know, but if you are looking for it and do find it, please tell me, I just can't find it any more. **

**Hope you liked this, and the reviews have really been incredible. I'm sorry I haven't been as active in updating as usual, exams and life piling up more boxes of things to do. Should change soon, but thank-you so much for the support.**

**Soul Music [Eryn]**


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